Mulan: The Flowers of Spring
by Wickfield
Summary: Mulan has just returned home as the unknown hero of China; the hushed news hasn't reached her home town yet. When Mulan learns a spy is lurking in China, she realizes she must "be a woman" to save her village - even at the cost of her own life. COMPLETE!
1. One

**A/N:**

_Okay, folks, here it is: my attempt to create a sequel to the movie Mulan (written in 2008)! Now I know it's no Disney creation; Mulan already accomplished her goal of bringing honor to her family in the first film, and without such a great theme it's kind of hard to come up with a very profound plot. But I tried, and here's the result. My main goal was to make it a little more realistic than Disney's sequel, in which everyone immediately learned of Mulan's heroism and automatically accepted it, and besides, Mulan was an airhead in that sequel. In a culture that at the time was so bound by tradition, a female soldier would _not_ be immediately recognized by society for her worth, and Mulan would learn right away how hard it is to fight the daily battle when her fame and fortune isn't there to help. _

_Anyway, I tried to recreate the characters to the best of my abilities (I love to write Mushu and Chien-Po). But of course there's no Shan Yu, because he was "disposed of" in the last film, so I tried to make a fairly believable new villain with a different personality and motive. I also attempted to form an interesting plot (I hope it's not redundant!), with as much humor as I could reasonably add, along with a _bit_ of realism, though new characters' names are in Mandarin, rather than the Cantonese of the film, and of course it's a _ton_ more westernized that China would have been at the time. Some of it is also a bit – ahem – convenient, but that's how it goes in kids' movies too, I guess._

_And it's got to be better than the actual Disney sequel, right?_

_Riiiight._

_I just wanted to write this the way I would have liked to see in a Disney animated movie. :D I also owe a lot to the now-offline story "Three Girls Worth Fighting For" by Therese._

_Thank you for taking the time to read my note, and I hope you enjoy the story! Please R/R, I'd like to know how to improve in Disney fanfiction – it's hard to write! _

* * *

**Update 9/26/11: **Due to this story being way more popular than I had expected, I decided to do some artwork to accompany it. You can view these pictures here at my DeviantArt account!

wickfield[dot]deviantart[dot]com/gallery/?q=flowers+of+spring

Thanks again everyone!

* * *

**MULAN**

**The Flowers of Spring**

"_She's a _hero!_"_

"_She's a_ woman_. She will never be worth _anything_."_

**Part One**

In China when the spring returns, the entire countryside positively bursts into a field of cherry blossoms. As it was, one year spring was rather tardy, and everyone talked about how odd it was that the cherry tree in Fa Zhou's garden had bloomed so soon, and that their own trees were in rather a withered state, as if they needed to be awakened and given a purpose.

Even stranger was the fact that it bloomed three days before an event no one foresaw. Because on that day Fa Mulan returned.

If one's ears burn when one is talked about, then Mulan's were flaming by the time she appeared in town for the first day after her return. The matchmaker, Madam Suo, was of course the worst. It must have been good fortune to hear Madam Suo's tongue wag, because that was what the lucky red clothing brought to seven girls primly seated on the bench in the matchmaker's parlor.

"Why, there is Fa Mulan," one idiotic maiden observed loudly, while the other six frantically hushed her lest Madam Suo would overhear. But they were too late, and the matchmaker pounced on the words.

"Fa Mulan?" She shoved her head out of the doorway, laid eyes on our heroine, and in five minutes every shopkeeper in town were shoving their heads out of doorways and whispering, loudly enough that Mulan could easily have overheard, until the girl who started it all was in disgrace with her companions.

The truth was that no one had expected Mulan to return. She disappeared the day of her matchmaking attempt, and when her parents had been questioned, they merely replied evasively, "Oh, she's off visiting a relative."

The townsfolk knew very well why a girl would be off visiting a "relative", and so they were more than a little surprised that Mulan, upon returning after nearly a year's absence, had not brought another tiny member of the Fa family with her.

Now yes, this was the same Fa Mulan who had run away to join the army, and is said to have saved all China. So why didn't the town treat her with more respect?

Because Fa Mulan was _not _the hero of China.

Oh, no. It was ridiculously inconceivable to think that Fa Mulan had disguised herself as a boy, had ever dreamed of joining the Imperial army, and, of course, she had not saved the Emperor and all China.

At least, that was the truth as far as Mulan's village was concerned. News didn't travel very far, even Imperial news; not to mention the fact that Chi Fu was still the Emperor's counsel because they couldn't get anyone else to take his wages. Chi Fu had a grand knack for throwing a wrench into any plan involving Fa Mulan.

So an entire month had passed after Mulan had returned home, and the townsfolk still did not know that the sword of Shan Yu hung in a room at the Fa house, or that the Emperor's own crest hung beside it. And if any member of the family had told them, they would not have believed it.

Fa Zhou knew it, though, and Mulan knew it, which was why she could bear – for a while, at least – the dirty looks fired at her from every doorway at the marketplace.

"It won't last forever," she told herself one day as she walked past the matchmaker's house. "The news _has_ to come sometime soon, and then no one will ever stare at me or my family again." Madam Suo, in fact, was the current starer, and a whisperer besides.

"And I'm not afraid of _you_ anymore, either," Mulan said under her breath. She waved a Madam Suo, who glared. "But I'm glad I'll never have to see you again, too."

Mulan shrugged, adjusted her packages, and started on again when she saw a flash of orange, a smear of ink, and then the sky as she landed on her back.

"Oh goodness, my apologies Miss Fa!" It was Wen Jian-Die who dropped to his knees to help Mulan gather packages with inky hands. "And you a lady. I was just so busy reading I – I didn't even look where I was going!"

He quickly tucked the note back into his _shenyi_, as if he didn't want it to get lost in the mess. He looked so ridiculous, with the wings of his scholar's cap bobbing as he spoke, that Mulan couldn't help but laugh. "It's all right," she smiled, picking herself up. "I wasn't paying attention, either." But Jian-Die still looked troubled, as if he was turning over matters in his head. She had known of Wen Jian-Die most of her life, but she'd only talked to him once or twice – mainly because of manners, as they were both unmarried – but also because Jian-Die was quiet and bookish and didn't say much. As she looked at him now, it struck her how much he had changed since he himself had returned as a soldier from the war. Where he had always seemed absent, the same look of brooding he wore now often appeared when he was quiet. Mulan suspected he, like many returned soldiers, had seen things during war he wished he never had.

Jian-Die finished piling her items back into her arms, and Mulan took inventory when she suddenly groaned, "Oh no."

"What is it, Miss Fa?"

"Master Wen, do you see a chicken?" Their eyes fell on the snapped bentwood cage and then they saw something feathery disappear under a cart. "I'll help you catch him," the scholar volunteered, and together they shot off down the road, only the eyes of the disapproving villagers following them.

Of course not everyone had such terrible manners. Some of the townsfolk treated Mulan quite cordially, and she had made the mistake of repeating this to her family at home. For example, young Shen Nuan Huo, the daughter of rice farmers, had worsened her already poor country image by talking to Mulan. The little girls especially were glad to see her, and flocked around her whenever she appeared, asking where she had gone and why didn't she have a baby like their mamas said. And most impressive of all was Wen Jian-Die. These social successes encouraged Fa Li so much that Mulan was startled that day when she came home from shopping, kicked the door open because her arms were full of eggs and tea and dates and chickens, and came face to face with her mother, who had on _that_ face.

_That_ face was the one Mama thought no one knew about, the one she put on whenever she knew there would be a disagreement she wanted to win. She always denied it existed, but when Mulan, or Fa Zhou, or Grandma saw it, they prepared themselves for battle.

* * *

As it turned out, while Mulan and Wen Jian-Die amiably chased fowl down the high street, Fa Li had been having a discussion with Grandma, who wandered into the front room sucking on a piece of candied ginger.

"Grandma!" Fa Li hissed (a bit loudly, as Grandma had been getting rather deaf lately). "Is Mulan home?"

"No," Grandma replied suspiciously.

Fa Li pulled Grandma to the side and started to fiercely whisper, looking nervously toward the kitchen for signs of Mulan.

"Grandma, when Mulan went to town yesterday, she remembered flour!" she hissed excitedly.

Grandma chewed on her piece of ginger and regarded her daughter-in-law curiously, wondering where this conversation was going. "It's more surprising to me that you forgot…" she replied, tapping her head. "Seems you're getting as addled as me! Ha!"

"Yes…well…that's beside the point," Fa Li blustered as Grandma laughed at her own joke. "Mulan _remembered._ She's showing responsibility."

"Didn't she show responsibility when she brought back the Emperor's crest?" Grandma asked, creating nothing but a blank look on her daughter-in-law's face.

"Well… yes," Fa Li conceded. "But don't you see, Grandma? She's more suited as a wife than she ever was before!"

Grandma shook her head, and pushed Fa Li away from her ear in disgust. "_I_ know she is, but why the rush, Li? You know there's no one in China special enough for Mulan, and I think – "

"But she's getting older, Grandma, and the tradition – "

"Who came up with traditions anyway? Old people?" Grandma spat, and Fa Li frowned at the indelicacy. "You ought to let Mulan have a say in it. That's what _this_ old person thinks!"

Grandma nodded sternly, but Fa Li decided to pay her no attention. Not only had Grandma been going deaf as of late, she had also seemed slightly…crazy. After all, it was just last Thursday she claimed she saw a small red dragon walking in the garden. Imagine!

It was at this point Mulan came into the room. Not to look suspicious, Grandma stared at the ceiling and whistled, and Mama greeted her smilingly with _that_ face.

Of course Mulan immediately knew something was going on, and that it most likely involved something she wouldn't want to do.

"Mama, what is it?" she asked carefully.

"What do you mean, 'what is it'?" Mama gave a fishy laugh. "And why is the chicken's cage broken?"

Mulan opened her mouth to explain, but Mama just shook her head. "It doesn't matter. No, not today." She smiled widely again and began tactfully, "Mulan," but Grandma interrupted.

"Let's just get it over with, Li. Mulan, we set up another matchmaking meeting."

Fa Li scowled at Grandma, then fixed the same smile and returned her attention to her daughter.

Mulan looked at each of them, thinking they couldn't possibly be serious.

They were.

Mulan managed a weak smile. "Ah…you did?"

Mama and Grandma looked guilty, but they nodded.

Mulan looked at them for a moment, then focused on the strand of hair she was twisting around her finger. "But what about Shan – I mean, Captain Li?"

"He's gone away to the army, Mulan," her mother began. "And I don't think…"

"Your mother doesn't think he's coming back."

Mulan was stunned at Grandma's blunt statement, and Fa Li's look in the old woman's direction was murderous. "Not…coming back?"

"Well, Mulan, you did spill tea on him the last time he was here," Mama reminded her lightly, as Grandma worked hard to stifle a giggle.

"Oh…that. But it was an…accident." Mulan's face flushed as she remembered it –hearing her family call her name in the great, unromantic distance; staring into Shang's beautiful eyes…and then watching them grow wide and pained as she poured hot tea all over his lap.

She waited hopelessly for one of them to admit it was a joke, namely Grandma, but they didn't. And there was nothing Mulan could do about it.

She bowed her head with a disbelieving jerk, and she knew her face was turning red from indignation. "When is the appointment, Mama?" she asked thinly.

"Tomorrow." (Mama had good enough sense to wait till the last moment to tell her rather outspoken daughter.)

Even now Mulan had to bite her lip to prevent the outburst she felt coming on. She nodded, and slipped out of the room. There was nothing to be done, not now. She had to obey her parents' wishes.

But that certainly didn't stop her from complaining to Mushu about it.


	2. Two

**Part Two**

Wise women and wise men, who claim they have seen such curiosities as the dragon with twelve arms and the spirit who lives under the bridge, also from time to time insist they have been present when their ancestors gathered in the family shrine. They say they have glimpsed a pale blue-white light that flickers like a fire for a moment; that the flames leap up and twist into shapes as the light courses down the walls, wrapping around pillars and settling on stones, until it finally comes to rest in the ethereal forms of all the departed ancestors of the esteemed family who, those wise women and wise men say, they could see as clear as day.

Whether they were simply wrong or whether they had had something rather strong in their tea could be debated, because this was not the way the Fa ancestors arrived.

Of course, the Fa family had been dysfunctional since the very first ancestor.

This First Ancestor Fa whirled into the room without any semblance of flickering, ethereal style, appearing more like a puff of angered smoke, out of which darted a misty arm that grasped hold of a dignified staff. The trees beside the family shrine were blowing with the breeze, and a few wayward petals from the solitary blooming cherry tree found their way to the stone floor in front of the altar. The First Ancestor winced as he saw the petals that lay placidly on the floor through all the invisible activity, looked at his fellow ancestors mournfully, then massaged his transparent temples.

"Anyone know where Mushu is?" he sighed as usual. "I think I'm getting a migraine."

The other ancestors (lesser ancestors in First Ancestor's private opinion) had gotten used to waking themselves since Mushu went AWOL, and gradually appeared in their respective places. Everyone shook their heads and murmured disapprovingly. "I knew it! I knew it!" a 400-year old aunt shrieked. "In all my years, he's _never once_ been here on time –"

"Pipe down, will you?" retorted a great-uncle-twice-removed, who was holding his ghostly detached left hand in his ghostly attached right. He clapped it over her mouth, to her great indignation.

"There he is!" cried a cousin, waving his abacus. (He had been an accountant in his former life.) "He's decided to grace us with his presence!"

And indeed, there was Mushu, who for the last month had tried to convince everybody he was as special as the Emperor. He strode through the crowd, thinking they were all falling off in respect, where in reality he was just walking through them (they _were_ ghosts, after all). He sauntered up to the altar, sat down, and delicately crossed his legs.

"GET OFF THE ALTAR!" bellowed First Ancestor Fa, the sheer force of which sent Mushu tumbling out onto the front steps. When he made his way grumblingly back inside, First Ancestor had composed himself. But just barely.

"What do you _say,_ Mushu?" he prompted as if he were instructing a student, but looking as if he would rather devour the guardian.

Mushu looked up, looked away and mumbled something sourly.

"Mushu…"

"Idkjfoiu…."

"MUSHU!"

"I'm sorry I'm late…" Mushu finally said, although his expression indicated the exact opposite. "Come on, what's the big hurry anyway? It's not like you're all gonna die of boredom. Ha!"

Mushu slapped his thigh, wiped away tears of laughter, and waited for an applause. First Ancestor looked at him coldly. "That's offensive."

Mushu chewed on his tail. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that too."

First Ancestor made himself get over that insult, because the matter at hand was very grave.

"The matter at hand is very grave!" he announced, gravely.

Mushu raised his hand. "I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you use the word "grave" as a pun?"

First Ancestor frowned and glared at Mushu, who under normal circumstances would have cowered beneath his might, but who after his latest success now believed he was twelve inches of mighty might himself. "Mushu," First Ancestor sighed, "this news involves you."

"Hey, it does?" Mushu jumped up in excitement. "Do I get to go on a mission?"

"No."

Mushu moped. "What? Ya gonna send Stoney? He had a…breakdown. Yeah – you better send me."

First Ancestor looked like he was about to say no.

"Come on!" Mushu begged, nodding and grinning as if that would convince the Ancestor. "I never get to go on missions! I did great last time! Mulan's a war hero! And it's all thanks to…" – dramatic pause – "ME!"

Still no applause. The only sound was a cough.

"Don't make me have to _singe_ nobody to prove no _point_!" Mushu threatened the crowd.

First Ancestor considered all this, darkly amused through his apparent woe. "All right Mushu, I _will_ send you." He cautiously appealed to his fellow ancestors for their opinion, and they shrugged.

"What? Ya'll think I can't do it, dontcha? I brought Mulan home from the war, didn't I? _Didn't_ I? With a medal, even. Big, shiny medal. Spit-shine it everyday. That's what A Loyal Guardian is s'posed to do."

"About that," First Ancestor began. "Mushu, have you ever heard of The Curse?"

"What curse? The Funky Curse? Cuz aw, I got that!"

First Ancestor picked Mushu up out of his moonwalking routine. "NO. This curse was brought on our family a long time ago, Mushu, so many centuries past that the current Grandma Fa does not even know about it."

"That _is_ old," said Mushu, sincerely.

"Yes," First Ancestor sniffed, as he launched into the tale. "Well, at that time, Mushu, there was a war between the kingdoms. A great ancestor of the Fa family, Fa Feng, was serving in that war. His side, however, was losing seriously, and that winter they were about to starve."

"I don't see where you're goin' with this," Mushu interrupted.

First Ancestor ignored him. "In the middle of winter, with no choice left except certain death, the regiment Fa Feng belonged to set off on a trek across the mountains, in the hopes of getting supplies from a nearby village. When they reached the village, each member of the regiment was sent to the temple to pray for spring to return so the snow would clear, in the hopes they would have success in their next battle. Fa Feng was one of the last sent. When he walked into the temple, he honored his ancestors, begged his prayer, and then turned to leave. But he did not leave, Mushu." First Ancestor Fa left Mushu to fill in the blanks.

"Did he…die on the front steps?" Mushu asked, carefully, and hopefully.

"NO!" First Ancestor groaned. "Now we know why you were just an incense pot all those years! You idiot, Fa Feng's eye was caught by a bright jade flower used to decorate the temple. He stole that statue from the temple and traded it with a bystander to buy the most food at the village. He did not have faith – not only that, he committed a crime as well. No one knew about it – no one, of course, except the spirits. I have heard that the statue brought good fortune to the innocent buyer, a learned man from the same village as Fa Feng, and it was passed down to every generation in that family. But Fa Feng angered the spirits, who punished him by placing a curse on him. Fa Feng went to war. He came home safely. He married, had a child, and lived for nine more months. But then the New Year arrived, and that spring, Fa Feng was struck down dead."

Mushu had only been half-listening, because he had been resentfully wondering how the heck _he_ was supposed to know about the dumb jade flower. Every vendor in China sold jade flowers. You could get one of _those_ anywhere. He waved his claw lightly. "So, the curse…"

"The curse, Mushu, is that any member of the Fa family who served in war in the Year of the Dragon will die when spring returns in the New Year."

Mushu considered this, twisting one whisker over his claw. "Do curses really exist?" he asked philosophically. "I don' think they do. Don't think Confucius did either – "

"Well I don't know what Confucius thinks but I think all the people who died from the curse would have been GLAD if it didn't exist!" In his anger, First Ancestor had swelled to twice his size and was towering over Mushu. When he noted the lizard was trembling, he said more calmly, "It has happened this way with many other members of our honorable family. And Mushu," becoming graver now, "do you know who that next member is?"

Mushu paused a minute, thought, and then raised his hand proudly. "Ooh, ooh, I know! It's…" But as Mushu thought about it his eyes grew even larger and his body turned a sickly shade of pink. "It's…Mulan."

First Ancestor Fa shook his head sadly and turned away. "You are correct, Mushu. Fa Mulan is going to die. It is the Year of the Snake, and when spring returns she will join her honorable ancestors." He looked out at the trees just beginning to blossom, then returned his attention to the red dragon. "And you, Mushu, are going to break the bad news to her."

"Me?" Mushu gasped in horror. "Why me? I'm not ready for a job like this!"

"It seemed you were a few minutes ago, when you begged for the task," First Ancestor Fa reminded him. "The family guardian has to do even the unpleasant jobs, Mushu, and you have struck up some sort of friendship with the girl. It's your duty as a guardian, and as a friend. You have no time to waste. Now go."

The incense dish rattled and the trees outside the altar shook as every single ancestor blew past Mushu and rushed like wind into their final resting places, arranging themselves into a tidy double file as they went.

Mushu waited a minute to make sure everyone was gone, staring after them in utter disbelief, then he launched a kick at First Ancestor's gravestone.

"Aw man!" he moaned. "How am I gonna tell Mulan?" Mushu sat down on the front steps and rubbed his now aching foot. "She's too young to die!" He shook his head, and massaged his red scaly temples. "Hey, I'll talk to Cri-Kee. Maybe he can shed some luck on the problem." He sighed. "Being a guardian really bites."

Suddenly Mushu's gnawed-looking ears pricked up at a sound coming from the garden.

"Mushu?" he heard Mulan hiss. "Mushu, where are you?"

"Oh no! I can't talk to her yet! I ain't ready!" And Mushu looked exactly like a snake as he tried to dart away into hiding, before Mulan could find him.


	3. Three

_**A/N:**__ Bit of a transitional chapter this week to connect Mulan and Mushu. Don't worry, the action and mystery picks up soon!_

**Part Three**

"Ah ha, there you are, you little lizard." Mulan snatched Mushu up before he could disappear under a plant in the garden. She looked at him critically. "Where have you been all day?"

Mushu wrung his claws as he thought up an answer. "I was…shooting…pigeons?"

Mulan blinked. "O-kay…and why are your eyes red?"

"My eyes aren't red."

"Yes, they are too red." Mulan kneeled down beside him and an incredulous look spread over her face. "Are you _crying_?"

"NO I'M NOT CRYING!" Mushu cried, then worked up a fake grin. "That's ferocity you see there. Fire in my eyes. Better beware girl, hehe…."

Mulan shook her head, deciding to disregard the little discourse, which was sure to lead to nothing but nonsense. "Mushu," she told him seriously, "I have a problem."

"More problems than one…" Mushu mumbled, but Mulan didn't hear him.

"Mushu!" she cried, shaking him into attention. "They've arranged another matchmaking session!"

Mushu forgot his troubles for a minute in excitement. "Really? Aw, I didn't get to see it when you flunked the last one…oh, okay, I'll shut up now," Mushu trailed off when Mulan looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Thank you. Now come with me." She stuck her head through the kitchen door to make sure the coast was clear, then hurried with Mushu to her bedroom.

"Come on, Mulan," Mushu said once she set him on the windowsill. "It's not like you're gonna somehow magically succeed and make some guy fall head over heels in love with ya!"

Mulan glared at him. "Thanks a lot."

Nobody ever understood Mushu.

"The point _is_," he went on peevishly, "that that matchmaker lady will probably have just as hard a time, or she'll put it off or somethin'."

"I don't know," Mulan fretted, pacing across the room. "I guess you're right."

"Yeah," Mushu said. "I know. Hey, what's that?"

Mushu slithered over to the edge of Mulan's bed and watched as she pulled out a carefully folded piece of red cloth.

"It's…part of Shang's cape."

"Mulan," Mushu asked suspiciously, "where did you get a piece of Shang's cape?"

Mulan was playing with her hair again. "You know how, the last time he was here, I offered to hang it up for him?" she said sheepishly. "There, uh, just so happened to be a…pair of scissors nearby. Oh, Mushu! You don't think Shang is gone forever, do you? I mean, I didn't _try _to pour tea…all…over him." She sighed. "It sounds worse when you say it out loud."

"Well, you sorta kinda saved his life. I think he'll still like you even with tea on his trousers."

Mulan couldn't help but laugh. "I hope so." She folded the cloth up again and laid it on her lap, tracing the fold of the familiar fabric. "Mushu, I know Mama is only doing what she thinks is right for me. But it seems like I'm right back to ground-zero."

"Are you gonna sing a song about it? Cause if you're gonna sing a song about it I have somethin' to do in the garden."

"If _you_ would sing every once in awhile maybe you wouldn't have anger issues," Mulan retorted. "But what I'm trying to say is that it just seems like me being the hero of China is nothing compared to me being a bride. That's exactly the way it was _before_ I went to war!"

"Well, nobody around here treats you like a hero," Mushu reminded her, "cuz none of them know."

"Why hasn't the news reached us yet?" Mulan demanded. "It's been nearly a month!"

"Well first of all it takes a couple a days to travel here from the Imperial City," Mushu explained, working out, as he went, what _must_ have been the Emperor's plan. "And besides, the Emperor prob'ly had to issue a proclamation, and get it passed, and put it on the calendar, and it's kinda hard to rename New Year's Eve "Fa Mulan Celebration Day", and he doesn't want a riot in the streets, cause then they might shoot a horse, and animal rights would be after 'em, and no one would be able to make duck sauce anymore, so these things just take time."

"Or he may not want anyone to know that the hero of China is a woman," Mulan said dejectedly.

Mushu gave her a pointed look. "Oh yeah, that's right. Doesn't want China to know you're a hero, mm-hm. That's why he and all the visitors in the Imperial Square _bowed down to you_. They don't like women. Come on, girl, if that's what you think, why haven't you told anybody yourself?"

"Mushu, you know they won't believe me. They don't even believe I went to a relative's house! Well, they _do_. But they don't think it was just a casual visit. You know how it is."

"You know, you're kinda whiny? Anyway, I think that's sorta the point. I think Fa Li's just trying to set you up for a normal, lay-low kinda life, in case the Emperor doesn't get that proclamation passed. Maybe. Or somethin'. You kinda got some unfinished business here, too, y'know."

Mulan gave Mushu a wry look, but once she considered what he said she brightened again. "You're deeper than you seem, Mushu," she smiled. "I guess I could live without being called a hero. I mean, I did for seventeen years before, didn't I? _I_ know I'm a hero, and that ought to be enough. I didn't go to war to be a celebrity."

"See, _I _did. That's the difference between you and me," Mushu nodded. "Hey, be careful!" he screamed suddenly. "You might strangle yourself!"

Mulan had wrapped the cape around her neck. She slowly unwound it. "Sure Mushu. Whatever you say. Hey, you know what else? The matchmaker hates me. She'll probably flunk me again for the fun of it," Mulan added, growing more optimistic by the minute. Maybe things _had_ changed since the last time. Now she didn't even care to pass the matchmaker's test. "Of course, it's not like I never want to get married." Mulan pressed the cape up to her face, then jumped and flung it out the window as her door creaked open.

"Mulan?"

"Baba!" Mulan ran to open the door for her father, who had a hard time because of his leg, then she flung her arms around him.

Fa Zhou always lived by the principle "Govern a family as you would cook a small fish - very gently." Something had happened to Fa Zhou while he was in the war many, many years ago as Imperial General, and it had changed his life, though he never spoke to any of his family members about it. Sometimes Mulan thought he was discussing it with the ancestors when he was praying. But whatever it was, it had made him view his family differently than many Chinese men, so he treated his daughter and wife less like he owned them, and allowed them to voice their opinions – most of the time. Mulan still winced when she thought of her hasty actions when that moron Chi Fu had come to draft her father. She never wanted to take too much advantage of her father's kind heart.

"I suppose you heard the good news," her father said, looking guilty himself. "Maybe you'll do… better this time than last time."

_Or maybe not._ Mulan cast a mischievous smile to Mushu, who was dutifully slinking under he bed with the shred of red fabric in tow. But she said to Fa Zhou, "Oh – oh, yes, Baba, I heard the news."

"Well, there's more news. You are going to have some male visitors tonight."

"Some male visitors?" Mulan blinked. She shuddered at the thought of spilling tea on her father's company. Again. Then she realized something. "_I'm_ going to have some visitors? Are they –" she asked, gulping, "suitors?"

"You'll just have to wait and see. They inquired at the door yesterday." With another stroke of Mulan's hair, and the mistaken belief Mulan might actually be excited, Fa Zhou stiffly turned to leave.

"Oh great!" Mulan groaned, throwing her hands in the air. "Suitors? Coming here? To see me. Now what am I going to do?"

"Someone's gettin' a boyyyyy-friend," Mushu sang, entirely forgetting Mulan's approaching demise in his own joke (he was good at compartmentalizing). "Bachelor one loves watching tearjerkers, taking moonlit walks on the beach, and discussing his feeeeelings."

In the middle of humming the wedding march, Mushu suddenly found himself hurled outside into the garden. Mulan shut the window behind him.

* * *

"Cri-Kee, this is all your fault."

Mushu had the habit of blaming all problems on Cri-Kee, and most of the time he seriously thought about squashing the cricket and putting everyone out of their unlucky misery. But Cri-Kee was a listening ear, wherever those ears were, and he always agreed with Mushu. Or at least let him talk in his immediate vicinity.

"See, here's the prob," Mushu said despairingly, arranging his feet on one of the garden leaves so he could be more comfortable as he discussed his dilemma. "I have to tell Mulan she's gonna die! _Me_. It's 'cuz the ancestors like to make fun of me. Yeah, they don't even care Mulan's gonna die. They think it's another member of their _party_. But I'm not gonna have any friends if Mulan dies!"

Khan, who was grazing nearby, gave him a look that clearly said, "Well that was selfish."

Even Cri-Kee gave a feeble chirp, expressing the hope that maybe _he _was Mushu's friend.

"No, no, I'm a loner in this cold world," Mushu wailed, and wouldn't hear otherwise. "And I'm short. So the girls pick on me too!" He hid his face in the leaves.

Cri-Kee wondered if maybe there was some way they could reverse the curse.

"Now, Cri-Kee, that's a good idea. Yeah…" Mushu paced back and forth, rapidly thinking out all the possibilities. "It could be pretty easy. We could…nah, that won't work. Or what if we…naw, too dangerous. Hey Cri-Kee, you have a sweater?"

Don't answer him, was Khan's advice.

"Okay, Heffa, that's enough from you. All I was gonna _ask_ was if Cri-Kee would be up for a little…say…expedition. Yeah, that's it. An expedition. The frozen north ain't that bad, now is it Cri-Kee?"

Khan made a sharp point here. Didn't Mushu realize that there were hundreds of ancestors thousand of times smarter than the puny dragon? Why hadn't they broken the curse yet?

"Because they don't have the world's greatest reptilian/mythical mind, that's why, genius. You eat hay. Lack of protein. Never even had a dumplin'. So you can't say anything."

Khan raised his hoof to grind Mushu into the ground, but Mushu, who had bigger plans cookin', turned to Cri-Kee again.

"By the way, buddy, I got a favor of you. Can you maybe make Mulan flunk her matchmaking appointment thingy tomorrow? Thanks."

Thought you said he wasn't lucky, Khan snorted.

"Will you _please_ be quiet and let a dragon get a word in edgewise? _Thank_ you! Now Cri-Kee, here's the time to prove yourself. I know Mulan survived the war, but that was mainly 'cause of _me_, we all know that. She really wants to marry that Shang guy. Not that I see anything particularly dashing in him, but his head is _really_ lumpy so that may just be distracting me. See, Cri-Kee, I want Mulan to be at least a little happy before…before she…"

Mushu was too emotional to finish the sentence.

Cri-Kee and Khan were also truly affected, and even Khan admitted, in his snorting way, that hopefully they could somehow reverse the curse. Mulan had too much life to live.


	4. Four

**Part Four**

Of course Mulan had no idea of her death sentence, although she might have braved that better than the mere thought of a crowd of male visitors. "Do I look presentable?" Mulan worried, trying to arrange her short cropped hair into something at least _resembling_ a hairstyle, but succeeding only in sticking it up in four different directions.

Mushu tore himself away from morbid thoughts to remark, "Define presentable."

"Oh, you think you're so funny," Mulan groaned, shooting Mushu a venomous look. The truth was, Mulan didn't want to hear what her mother would have to say. Of course Fa Li knew her daughter would have been discovered if she had entered the army with long hair, but she still lamented the loss of what she thought was Mulan's one beauty.

"Well, I don't have to be gorgeous," Mulan sighed, laying down her hairbrush. "Not that there's much a chance of that, anyway."

"Yeah, especially if you're trying to herd 'em off till Shang comes back," Mushu agreed, though very depressed. "Ya know, you better be careful with that hairbrush," he realized, plucking it away from her, "you could give yourself a concussion or somethin'!"

Mulan nodded emphatically at the first statement and blinked confusedly at the second. "I guess this will do."

"I can come with you if you want," Mushu suggested, worried she'd maybe stab herself with a chopstick or something in his absence. Taking her silence as an answer, Mushu slithered up and settled in the collar of her blouse. He sighed, and hugged her around her neck, mournfully.

Mulan stood hesitating at the door for a long time, until Mushu finally recovered and bit her ear, sending her hopping out into the hallway.

"_Mushu_…" Mulan began to threaten, until her father suddenly appeared.

"Hi…Ba – OW! – Ba," Mulan stuttered.

Her father looked concerned. "What happened?"

"Something bit – my sash may be tied too tight." _Too tight around Mushu's scrawny little neck here in a few minutes, _she added mentally, planning to get back at the dragon with the sharp teeth.

"You look more beautiful than ever," Fa Zhou said proudly.

"Thank…you." Mulan smiled stiffly, hoping he was lying to her, although she knew he never would.

"Your guests have already arrived," he continued, walking ahead of Mulan to introduce her. Mulan froze, and quickly pulled a strand of hair out of her twisted style.

"Screw it up," Mushu advised.

"I will, I will."

Keeping her eyes on the floor, which was the polite thing to do, Mulan stepped into the family room and bowed. Maybe, if she was lucky, her blouse would rip. Maybe she could trip on her skirt. Maybe she could set the room on fire and get them all distracted!

As she racked her brain for a way to scrub a lit candle against the floor without being noticed, she caught the sight of three distinct pairs of feet – a pair of rail-thin legs, a pair of stocky legs, a pair of very well-fed legs – and then finally three very familiar faces.

"Ling, Yao, Chien-Po! What are – "

Mulan bit her tongue quickly and looked at her parents. In her excitement she'd forgotten good manners.

"It's all right, Mulan," said Fa Li, wincing at the impropriety of it all. "These young men are an…exception. You've known them so…_well_, it's almost like they're family."

"Not that there's any worry they'll ever _become_ family," Grandma muttered to her son. Fa Zhou nodded and thanked the ancestors then and there.

"Excuse me, honorable Fa Zhou," Chien-Po said politely, spreading his arms wide, "do you mind?"

Before Fa Zhou could answer the unusual question, Chien-Po had swiftly gathered everyone into his arms for a friendly introductory hug. He sat Fa Li down gasping, Mulan reddening, Grandma staring about her in amazement and Fa Zhou rubbing his back in slight pain. Stretching stiffly, he said aloud to his company, "You all look like fine young gentlemen tonight."

It was true, all three were wearing suits of their best clothes. Though Yao was dressed in plain rough rust-colored homespun he was scoured clean, and even ascetic Chien-Po was wearing a bright blue cap perched lightly on his head. Ling of course took this as a great compliment rather than just a kind remark, and turned a bit so all the ladies could see his shining best gold jacket with the black trim.

Fa Zhou rolled his eyes and motioned toward the kitchen, and the three adults left to give Mulan a chance to reunite with her friends.

When she turned her attention back to the gang of three and smiled excitedly, Ling immediately became goofy. "Wow, Mulan, long time no see, huh?" he cackled. "And of course…you look…I mean, WOW! How did I never realize you were a girl?"

"_That _wasn't creepy," Mushu whispered sarcastically into a dumbstruck Mulan's ear. "Or stupid."

"I know, it's like having to get to know me all over again!" Mulan said, trying to be friendly but keeping a good distance away from Ling.

"Oh, no, I think it's great! I mean, I like girls who can sorta…disguise themselves as a guy sometimes."

Mulan gave him a blank look.

"Y'know what I mean?"

"Uh, I thought you liked someone who was paler than the moon, Ling," she said dryly, slowly backing away. Why was he acting like this?

"Nah. Who wants someone pasty, right?"

"You did."

"Ah, well…army fatigue," Ling improvised.

Mulan shook her head. She had forgotten that holding any kind of a conversation with Ling was useless. "Hi, Yao. How's your anger management been?"

Yao opened his mouth to say something, became confused, and closed it again.

"Yao's not sure what to think of you," Chien-Po explained, patting the stocky soldier, "now that you're a Lady again."

"We'll I've never been really a fancy lady or anything, you guys," Mulan smiled uneasily.

"Surrrrre…." from Ling, with a suggestive wink.

Mulan glared at him. "No, really! Please, don't – just because I'm a girl, don't treat me any differently than you did before."

"You're not just a girl," Ling said suavely. They all stared at him sort of awkardly until he squirmed. "You're a hero!" he added finally.

"How has the town treated you since they heard the news of your deeds?" Chien-Po inquired.

"Yeah, has anyone bowed to you?" Ling asked.

Now it was Mulan's turn to squirm. They were all looking at her expectantly.

"Well, see, the villagers...um, they don't know yet," she said finally.

All three of them gave her an equally incredulous look.

"They don't _know_?" objected Yao.

"No," Mulan smiled lightly. "My family told them I was visiting a relative, and there's been no news from the Imperial City, so…no one really knows but my family and you three."

They were silent for a moment, taking in the shocking news. "You were all they talked about in the Imperial City," Chien-Po said musingly.

"Well for the first coupla days," reminded Ling. "Then they kinda forgot." Yao scowled at him.

"They did not forget," Chien-Po corrected Ling. "It was simply old news, to them. Their attention span is low. They could use some meditation. Truly Mulan, you _are _a hero. It is just more difficult to convince some than others. Those who are willing to believe, will. It is in their nature, just as it is in the suspicious to expect a lie. You are really a hero every day, because you are good."

"Hear, hear!" shrieked Ling, and Yao seconded it.

"Come on guys, I don't know about that…" Mulan turned red from embarrassment. Chien-Po had always been nice to everyone, and he always meant what he said, even if he wasn't exactly right. She decided to change the subject. "I forgot to ask, what are you all doing in town? Why aren't you at the camp?"

"We're off on army leave!" Ling exclaimed. "Gonna see the sights!"

"I am going home to visit my family," Chien-Po answered serenely, knowing very well there weren't any sights to see in such a small village.

"Would you like to sit down and…" Mulan tried to remember what came next in a polite introduction.

"'Talk about it'," Mushu provided.

Mulan groaned that she couldn't remember something so simple. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Y'know," Ling said, settling himself in comfortably, much to Chien-Po's chagrin. "Being in the army ain't all fun and games. It's dangerous." He wanted to impress the feminine version of Mulan badly, entirely forgetting that the masculine version knew all about dangerous battles. "Like, for instance, we heard there's this Chinese spy who's working for the Huns – "

"Shut up, Ling!" Yao shouted suddenly, and punched him off his chair.

"Whaaat?" Ling whined from the floor.

"Ling, you weren't supposed to say anything about it!" Chien-Po scolded, feeling as if he would need to meditate if things continued on the way they were going.

"But it's just Mu_laaaan_," Ling argued. "She won't tell! Will ya, Mulan?"

"Oh, I wasn't listening to Ling anyway," Mulan said quickly, as an attempt at settling the argument. "Pretend I didn't hear anything."

As soon as Ling got up on his chair, injured to think that Mulan wasn't listening, Yao knocked him off again. Chien-Po sighed. "I guess we will have to tell her, won't we?"

"Yeah." Yao was shooting daggers at Ling.

"I really am kind of interested," Mulan admitted with a grin, losing any misgivings about heroism and victory in the anticipation of a mystery. She leaned forward on her stool. "What's the story?"

"Well, we really weren't supposed to know ourselves. We overheard Captain Li saying he was going to – why, Mulan, what is it?"

At the mention of Captain Li Mulan's face had turned red, and of course the conscientious Chien-Po immediately noticed. "Oh, nothing," Mulan said quickly, "go on."

"As you wish. Captain Li is going to send out different spies of our own to try to uncover the enemy spy. But he doesn't want everyone to know about it until he can be sure. The spy is unusual because he is dangerous to small villages, instead of cities. Captain Li says the spy will be helping and giving information to some of the surviving Huns, who are trying to target small villages with violence so they can distract attention away from some bigger plan. This village," Chien-Po said with a wave of his mighty arm, "might even be in danger, though of course that is unlikely. That's all we know."

"Any idea who he might be?" Mulan asked, breathlessly.

"They say he is probably middle-aged. Maybe in his forties? A larger man. They think this because of reports they have received describing two soldiers who had been apprehended as prisoners by the Huns in the Tung Shao pass. But you never know – he could be anyone."

"Even a girl," Ling said, from the floor.

By this time dinner was ready, and the gang of three, headed by Chien-Po, filed off to the table. "I just love spring," he said dreamily. "Almonds, peaches, bird's nest soup – "

"Spring rolls!" Ling laughed.

But Mulan lingered behind.

"A secret spy, huh?" Mushu said, crawling out into view. "A secret agent man!"

"He could even be in our village," Mulan said, dwelling thoughtfully on many things. "You know, Mushu, I didn't realize they would treat me so differently now that I'm a girl again."

"Yeah. That's the way it goes," Mushu mumbled after a little more thought. Chien-Po's talk about spring had rather distressed him. He snuck to the kitchen, hoping to find a moon cake to eat away his sorrows. He left Mulan standing alone in the dark.

* * *

"The Emperor will stop you!"

Many months before, when every earthly thing was stripped of life, two soldiers, panting and sweating and running as if death itself chased them, scrambled across the cliffs of the Tung Shao pass. The younger regretted his outburst with every inch of his being.

"Are they following us?" the older gasped.

As an answer, an arrow whizzed between their heads, narrowly missing each man's ear. Whirling, they came upon their attacker – a Hun who had mounted horseback and was pounding toward them.

"It only takes one man to deliver a message." Twang went the bowstring, and one soldier dropped down dead. The other, fearing his own life, dropped to his knees.

"Get up," snarled the bowsman, fitting another arrow to his bow.

"Please, don't shoot!" the soldier pleaded. "I – I'll do _anything_!"

The Hun paused, and fixed a pair of beady eyes on the Chinese soldier. His skeletal body and loose hair made him look like an evil spirit come to avenge some wrong. "What can _you _do?"

"I can read, and I can write, and I can recite things! No one would suspect me – I'm just a villager, but I'm respected!"

"Could you get information?"

"Yes." It was barely a whisper.

"Then come with me." The words slithered from the Hun's throat. Quavering, the soldier extended his hand and mounted the horse.

His agency had begun.

-X-

_**A/N:**__ Okay, I'm worried the last part was a bit confusing. It's supposed to be dealing with the scene in the movie where the Huns attack two Chinese soldiers. The question I'm trying to pose is – which one, older or younger, is the spy?_


	5. Five

**Part F****ive**

"Wake up, Mulan! It's bright and early! Get up, dear!"

Mulan groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. "It's too early….Go away…" she protested sleepily, trying to wave away her attacker with her free hand.

"I know it's early. But we're not going to be late for the matchmaker today!"

Fa Li grabbed Mulan's flailing arm and removed the pillow with her other hand. Mulan swung her legs over the side of her bed and sat up unsteadily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "That was _today_?"

Fa Li planted her hands on her hips in a gesture that clearly showed her opinion. "You would have _forgotten_. Don't say you wouldn't have. I'm going to supervise you this morning. You're not going to fail this like you did last time."

"I didn't fail last time," Mulan argued, mincing words with all her might, and speaking to both of the two vague impressions of her mother floating in front of her bleary eyes.

"Yes, you did, dear," her mother replied bluntly. "But don't worry. I'll have everything arranged. Now what is the final admonition?"

"Oh..uh…" Mulan drew a blank, anxiously trying to distinguish between the Final Admonition and the Qualities of a Good Wife as her mother gazed on disapprovingly. But in the middle of her struggle, Mulan had one of her ideas. The last thing her mother would want was to be embarrassed in town – again. If I could prove I need more time, Mulan thought craftily, maybe I won't have to go to the matchmaker's, and, just maybe, Shang would get back in time! Mulan finally cleared her throat, and said boldly and incorrectly, "quiet and demure – "

"The _final admonition_, Mulan," Fa Li said, her patience growing thin.

"Fulfill your…errands – no, duties – ah, calmly – " Mulan grinned to herself, but threw up her hands as if it were hopeless. "I didn't study it."

"You aren't supposed to study it! You're supposed to _know_ it."

"Mama," Mulan replied seriously, "I really don't think – "

"And you _shouldn't_ think – not today. Let me handle everything." Fa Li thrust a bowl of rice into her daughter's hands. "Don't worry – "

"I'm not worried," Mulan retorted.

"Good. This time, I'll be with you the entire visit – "

Mulan coughed, sucked down twelve grains of rice, and choked.

"Mulan, are you all right?" Fa Li cried, rushing to her and striking her on the back.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Mulan, wheezing and growing hot, shrugged off her mother's hand. "Did you say…you're coming _with_ me?"

"Yes I am. You're not going to fail the matchmaker." Mama said.

Mulan chided herself for her idiocy. Her false stupidity had only convinced Mama she needed to help her. And then the matchmaker wouldn't fail her, and Mulan would be betrothed, and Shang would come home from the war and find her married, and then he would kill himself from grief!

"Oh, really, I'll do fine!" she assured her mother in one last attempt of saving Shang from lover's suicide. "I know the final admonition, really, listen: 'Fulfill your duties calmly and patiently'…no, that's not it…uh…"

"Like I said," Fa Li nodded, "I'll help you."

Mulan watched, helplessly, as her mother took the half-eaten bowl of rice and replaced it with a shawl and slippers. "Be dressed in ten minutes," she said, as she disappeared out the door.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Mulan clambered off her bed and thrust her head out the window. "MUSHU!"

Mushu had been sleeping in a water bucket outisde, and he poked his head out groggily. "Girl, whatchyou think you're doing? Some people are tryin' to sleep here!" Then he remembered to be depressed, and his face fell.

"Mushu, Mama's coming with me!"

That woke him up. "_What_?"

"I can't fail the matchmaker with Mama there! What am I going to do?"

"Anything you can break?"

"Just a shawl and slippers, and they're Mama's so I can't rip them."

"Ohhhh boy. Cri-Kee, you got any ideas? No? Some bug. Okay, somebody get me some rice milk and let me think."

Mulan tugged her clothes on and planed her forehead with her hand. "Maybe I can ask my ancestors!" she said at last. "They'll help me!"

"I don't think so, babe," Mushu muttered to himself, in possibly the bitterest voice he had ever assumed. "They just want another member for they party."

* * *

Mulan tried to formulate plans till the last minute, but eventually she was forced to give up. She sat defeatedly on the bench outside the matchmaker's waiting room door. This being a particularly boring position, she was examining her foot, which she just now found out was surprisingly larger than most other girls', and she was busy comparing it mentally to everyone she knew when Grandma moseyed through the hallway.

"Now's your lucky shot, Mulan!" she exclaimed. "You're going to make a big impression. You'll do great. Now, where's that cricket I gave you?"

"I really don't think the cricket will affect my luck much," Mulan said halfheartedly.

Grandma stared at her, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Mulan, I want to tell you something. I know you're worried about your visit with the fancy lady. I know the things the villagers say about you behind your back."

Mulan didn't realize they said things behind her back. They said enough things to her face.

"Of course," Grandma continued, "they would all have been killed in their sleep if it wasn't for you. To tell the truth, it's not such a bad idea – "

"Grandma!"

"But I wanted to tell you just to ignore the bad things. Mulan, no matter what happens, you must always remember that life is screwy. You've won the war, Mulan, but you gotta realize that there's a new battle you have to fight every day here at home. But no matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow. You never know how life'll treat you, but you must always _hope_.

"I wanted to tell you this now," said Grandma, "because I had a dream last night that you would be married soon, and then I wouldn't have the chance. Of course, I didn't see the lucky fellow – that's how dreams work out. They're screwy too. So don't be afraid. Go in there and knock 'em dead!"

Grandma looked like a prizefighter herself. Mulan, in spite of all her anxiety and fears that her meeting would go wrong, stooped down and threw her arms around her grandmother. "Thank you, Grandma," she said into her shoulder. "That's just what I needed."

"Mulan," Mama said, thrusting her head out of the doorway, "the matchmaker is ready."

Mulan gulped.

Madam Suo was worse than Shan Yu had ever been. She wasn't even that great of a matchmaker. Half of the girls who went in, most of them much more graceful and refined than Mulan, still came out spinsters, and their wailing and weeping at the event proved their shock. They all knew the truth – the matchmaker was just lazy and didn't want to do the work – and she didn't have to, being the only matchmaker for miles around.

It seemed to Mulan, as she tripped past the doorway, followed by Mama at her elbow, that

Madam Suo had gotten even…larger, if that was possible. As a welcome, the matchmaker cast a squinted, criticizing look in Mulan's direction as soon as Mulan bowed into the room.

"Fa Mulan?"

Mulan would have loved to make the same mistake twice, and she nearly blurted out her name again. But Mama looked ready to pinch her the minute she spoke.

The matchmaker finally nodded. "You may speak."

"If you please, I am Fa Mulan," Mulan grumbled, and rolled her eyes as Mama shaped the words along with her. The Matchmaker squinted again, then turned away sharply. "I suppose your brief vacation did you well," she remarked. "Recite the final admonition."

Mulan gave up, closed her eyes and began to recite almost flawlessly, "Fulfill your duties calmly and respectfully…." She opened her eyes to finish the rest, but Mama was standing in the opposite corner, frantically mouthing the rest of the speech. Mulan frowned at her mother, who started to whisper, when Madam Suo snapped, "finish the final admonition! And don't frown, you stupid girl! Do you want wrinkles?"

If Mama had not been in the room…well if she wasn't there, Mulan would have done lots of things, but she would certainly have saved a fierce glower for Madam Suo. "I'm…sorry," she mumbled. Mulan cleared her throat. "Reflect before you act. This shall bring you_ honor _and _glory._"

Madam Suo bestowed another squint upon Mulan as she emphasized those words. Mulan didn't care. The matchmaker just didn't know what they meant.

When Fa Li saw that look, she panicked, and immediately began clapping her hands. "Excellent job, Mulan! Excellent! I'm sure," she said to the matchmaker, "most girls do not have it memorized."

"I would expect," Madam Suo said blandly, "all girls would remember it by their second visit."

Fa Li's clapping slowly died away.

Mulan cringed as Madam Suo strolled around her, examining her at all angles. "Too skinny," she muttered again.

"But she won't eat her husband out of house and home!" Fa Li reminded her. Madam Suo snapped her head around, and Mulan remembered in dismay the matchmaker's eating habits. It looked almost as if Madam Suo would eat her mother. Instead, bristling all the while, she cupped Mulan's chin in her clammy hand and tilted it up for the best view.

"Face rather sharp," Madam Suo said through her teeth, consulting her list. Out of habit, Mulan glanced at her mother, and noticed in disgust that she had pulled out a string of bright gold coins.

She couldn't believe it. Mama was actually going to bribe the matchmaker!

Madam Suo noticed at the same time, and she became so excited she didn't even make Mulan pour the tea. Instead, she snapped her scroll shut and held it behind her back as she regarded Mulan and Fa Li.

"Now Madam Fa," she began in her droning voice, made slightly more excited by the thought of high pay, "I find it much easier to arrange a match for your daughter, despite the many flaws she displayed on her last visit. Remarkably, someone actually expressed an interest in your daughter at that time, but then she went to visit a – hm – _relative_."

Mulan exchanged a shocked look with her mother. Who could have asked about her? Even if she prided herself enough to consider Shang, he had been away in the army far too long.

The matchmaker apparently approved of their shock. She stroked her fingers thoughtfully between her two chins. "And no, he is not a half-wit, in case you were wondering. I'm sure you know Master Wen Jian-Die?"

Madam Suo crossed her arms, pleased with herself at the astonishing news. It probably shocked Mulan the most. She jumped and dropped her fan, creating a loud clattering in the near silence. She excused herself, stooping down to pick it up with a thousand conflicting thoughts rambling through her brain. Who could ever consider Jian-Die?

"I do know him," Mama said, when she regained her voice and composure. "Madam Wen Lei's eldest son – he just returned from the military."

"Quite right," Madam Suo said, shaking her head. "He is respectable, learned, practical, son of a long line of scholars, an excellent farmer, and a victorious soldier. I see…hmph, nothing wrong with him. Except for his piggish nose."

Silence reigned _supreme_. Mulan couldn't believe what she was hearing. Jian-Die had never indicated that he liked her. He had caught her chicken yesterday, but that…was just friendly. Wasn't it?

"Surely there's been some mistake," Mulan whispered to herself, but Madam Suo, naturally, overheard.

"You would be an immeasurably foolish girl to reject such an admirable suitor!" Madam Suo snapped. "Half the girls in the village have been after him!"

"I – I wasn't rejecting him," Mulan stammered. "I – I like him fine – well I mean I don't – "

"It doesn't matter if you like him or not. It matters that he provides for you and respects you. You would do well to remember that."

Grandma directed a scowl at Madam Suo, but no one knew quite what to say. "The respected Madam Wen is here at the moment," she continued, ushering that woman in through a side door. "She wishes to discuss the match." Mulan stumbled into a low bow at Grandma's prodding, but she looked up to study the woman. If she had ever seen Madam Wen Lei, she had only seen her once. The wealthy widow, when she graced the public with her presence at all, usually paraded through town in a thickly curtained sedan chair which she allowed the villagers to gawk at. Madam Wen herself was an average height, Mulan saw, doughy in the face with makeup that really only worsened her wrinkles, and an elaborate hairstyle that had been tea-stained jet black. She held an ugly, hairy, snarling Pekinese in her arms to which she continually muttered, "Hush, Chu!" Mulan wasn't sure what to make of her, but she noticed that the smile that Madam Wen deliberated from time to time was not exactly warm, but looked as if her mouth had been stretched across her face.

And _this _was to be her mother-in-law?

"I must admit," Madam Wen said, addressing the air more than Mulan, "that I was rather disappointed with Jian-Die's choice at first. But I can see you carry yourself blushingly, which is always nice to see. And as long as one can display herself properly, nothing else matters."

Mulan foggily managed to excuse herself as Madam Suo, Madam Wen, and her mother began discussing fine points; she shooed away a servant who tried to escort her and then sneaked out by the back door, just barely avoiding tripping over her parasol and falling down the steps.

_And as long as one can display herself properly, nothing else matters._ That wasn't even part of her matchmaking training. Was that really what people thought? Mulan figured that once you were finally married you could be yourself again. Was she wrong?

She sat down on the stone bench and was met with a scream.

"GIRL! WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!"

"Sh, shh," Mulan hissed, covering Mushu's mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry – I didn't know you were there!"

"What kinda person doesn't look before they sit down! You coulda sat in gum! YOU DID SIT ON ME – "

"I know, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," Mulan explained.

"I was here for moral support," Mushu told her, becoming graver as his anger faded and he remembered the curse. "So, didja flunk?"

"No."

"WHAT?"

"I couldn't do anything wrong! Mama did practically everything for me. I couldn't help it. I'm betrothed, or I will be, to Wen Jiang-Die."

Cri-Kee chirped his surprise, and Mushu shook his head, trying to get a grasp on things. "So, uh, hang on a second. You're _betrothed_?"

"I have to find some way to get out of it," Mulan murmured. "I have to wait for Shang. But Madam Wen is very important. More important than the matchmaker even – she's influential with everyone, not just couples! Mushu, I don't think she really likes me. 'And as long as one can display herself properly, nothing else matters.' I think she was just correctly displaying _her_self when she saw me."

"What a creep!" Mushu said, outraged. "What about _your_ opinion?"

"I can't have an opinion, apparently. Oh, Mushu, I don't know how I'm going to pull this off, but I know can't marry him. I don't want to hurt Jian-Die's feelings, though – he's very nice, and…"

Mulan may have gotten away with wearing next to no makeup, but you couldn't tell it. Her face had drained all color and she stood as white as milk.

"Good afternoon, Miss Fa," Jian-Die, the object of Mulan's emotion said, striding passed the matchmaker's house. "I hope you are having a good day." He acted as if he had no idea what had gone on inside the house, and he lightly walked away.

"Po-ker-_face,"_ Mushu announced.

"This is going to be impossible," Mulan lamented, staring after him incredulously.

"Don't worry," Mushu sighed. "We'll come up with a plan."

"We always do," Mulan agreed.

_Not always._ Mushu glanced at Cri-Kee. How could Mushu ever tell her she was going to die?


	6. Six

**Part Six**

_Ooh, big climax chapter here. __ :) I'm sorry if the conversation between Mushu and Mulan is a bit awkward, but it's better than the original version which didn't make much sense, so bear with me, haha._

Mushu was still considering this that evening, as he attempted to make his way unnoticed up the garden walk, alone because Mulan had darted inside to dirty her formal clothes to steal time. He had almost made it into the house when he heard it: a low but distinct grumble, "Mu-shu."

Mushu looked in the direction of the shrine. "I don't got time for this," he groaned, waving a dismissive claw and continuing on his way. But First Ancestor would not have it – his voice again drifted from the shrine. "Mushu, I see you there on the step. Do not go inside!"

Mushu looked in the direction of the altar and in sheer defiance put his foot on the back step of the house.

"Mushu I swear if you don't come in here in five seconds you will be hanging from the roof with incense burning your gut. NOW COME!"

The trees outside the shrine shook, but Mushu was not afraid. Still, he figured he might as well get it all over with.

"Whaddya want me to do now?" he asked, sulkily. "Stab Fa Zhou? It's my duty as a guardian, y'know."

"Oh, very funny!" cried the wise-cracking former accountant.

"I gave him that limp, you know," Mushu continued.

"Mushu, now is no time for nonsense," First Ancestor said evenly, feeling a distant migraine coming on. "You haven't told Mulan yet, have you?"

"Well…"

"I know you didn't, Mushu, because I heard her singing in the garden yesterday."

"What's that girl think she _is_?" Mushu thundered despairingly. "A pop star?"

First Ancestor Fa jabbed his staff in Mushu's direction. "_Why _haven't you told her?"

"Well, it's not exactly the funnest job in the world," Mushu huffed.

"Well, you asked for it."

Mushu stuck his narrow little tongue out, then stood crossing his arms in thought. "Hey, I got a question," he began. "I had this great idea the other day. Is there any way I could reverse the curse?"

First Ancestor Fa paused in his show of irritation, returned Mushu's thoughtful look, and paced across the room – inasmuch as someone without feet can pace. Scratching his transparent head, he said simply to his associates, "Does anyone here know a way to reverse the curse?"

Nobody had ever thought about this before – they had always taken for granted that there was no way to appease the spirits – and they all looked at each other quizzically for a moment. A foggy hand shot up from the back of the room. First Ancestor motioned toward the owner with his ever-useful staff.

It was Great-Great-Grandfather Fa Chao, a square man with a stiff topknot who had gotten food poisoning from his fortieth birthday feast and dropped dead the next day. But he had also been a soldier, as many Fas had. "I once heard," he said slowly, "that there _was_ a way to reverse the curse. I don't remember specifics because my head is foggy – well I guess all of me is," he trailed off, glancing at himself as if he had just then noticed.

"Con_tin_ue," ordered First Ancestor Fa.

Great-Great-Grandfather Chao nodded. "But I remember hearing that if the spirits could be pacified by receiving the jade flower, even after all these years, the curse could be broken."

First Ancestor Fa nodded grandly, then once more regarded Mushu. "Well, Mushu, there _is_ some way to stop the curse. But it is unlikely you will be able to in time."

Mushu's briefly hopeful face fell, and instead he nodded sadly.

"You may want to tell her, sooner than later," the Ancestor said, in the gentlest voice he could muster.

Mushu uttered a pathetic sigh, and walked through the crowd of ghosts out into the night.

The tiny guardian trudged to the house and pulled himself in by the window, and instantly Mulan ran to him with a bright orange skirt. "Mushu," she whispered excitedly, draping the fabric to reveal an extensive tear, "I didn't even do it on purpose! It snagged on a hook in the wall! Well I did sort of…pull. Anyway, isn't it great?"

Mushu sighed again. "Be careful with those hooks. You don't want to poke yourself. You could bleed to death."

A concerned look spread across Mulan's face. "What's wrong, Mushu?"

He looked up at her, his throat tightening, but he knew he had to be manly or else he could never hope to proceed. So he said gruffly, "Uh, uh, Mulan, I was just thinkin'."

Even in the middle of her wardrobe-destroying, Mulan found time to attend to him and she sat down on the bed beside the dragon. Mushu noticed her selflessness, and it _cut him to the core_.

"Mulan," he said raggedly, though so determined to tell her he could never begin a different conversation, "you know, somethin' bad's about to happen to you and – "

He turned away his head.

"I know," Mulan sighed, with a miserable nod. "I'll have to marry Jian-De."

Mushu jerked his head up and turned it in her direction. "No, not that – " he began quickly, but Mulan interrupted him. "Don't worry Mushu, I hate it too. But it's inevitable. I'm not sure it can be helped."

Mushu stared at her in astonishment. "You think THAT'S the worst of your problems?" he began dramatically, jumping to his little feet.

"I know, I feel like such a drama queen," Mulan sighed, propping her chin on her hand, "but it seems to me there must be some way I can avoid it," she argued resolutely with herself.

"Wait – " Mushu interjected quickly, with a sinking feeling. "No, naw, Mulan, there's this curse thing – "

"The curse of being a woman," Mulan nodded, vaguely.

"Naw girl, there's something bigger than that," Mushu rambled, determined now to get it all over with. "Pay attention! But I've heard of folks that have been able to kinda…reverse it."

Mulan still had no idea what he was trying to get across – she assumed he was just being a little bit "out there" again, and figured he was talking about Jian-De.

"A way to reverse it?"

"Yeah!" Mushu exclaimed, " If you could convince the ancestors…"

"The ancestors?"

"Yeah! If there was a way to show you didn't deserve it, that there was a mistake maybe – " Mulan suddenly picked Mushu up and whirled him around the room.

"Mushu! You're a genius!"

"Well I didn't really come up with it – " he wheezed modestly.

"No, but you gave me the greatest idea!" Mulan nearly skipped around the room. "If Mama and Baba thought Jian-Die was unsuitable, I wouldn't have to marry him!"

Mushu drew a blank. "You were still talking about pig-face?" he said despairingly. "THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT – "

But Mulan had bigger plans cookin' (as Mushu might have said at a more applicable time). "Anyway, it's the perfect idea! I can't lie – I'm terrible at lying – well, except for my disguise but that's a whole other story – anyway, if I could catch Jian-Die doing something…improper, or something my parents didn't agree with, or seemed rash or something, they could refuse the match! Oh, Mushu it's perfect!" Suddenly she remembered something. She glanced toward the orange skirt with a bit of regret. "I wish I hadn't torn that. I actually really liked that one."

In her ecstasy she had entirely forgotten Mushu, who sat at the edge of the bed holding his head in his claws, a Failure. She had no idea about the threat hanging over her head at every moment, and in fact, he had made things worse. He almost had never seen Mulan so thrilled with a plan or herself. As she danced about, nearly bursting into song on the spot and planning the tactics to deal with her unwanted suitor, the distinct budding smell of approaching spring flowers drifted into the room.

Mushu almost choked on the scent.

* * *

"I hate that I have to do this," Mulan muttered to herself as she walked down the high street two weeks after she had decided on her plan. She dodged a cart racing down the road, and having survived that episode of road rage, she proceeded to peer up at the tall gate of the house in front of her, the home of the eminent scholar who was instructing Jian-Die in his education. In a few minutes, Mulan knew, her suitor would appear, Mulan would duck into her usual post behind the corner, and Jian-Die would sit down placidly to eat his lunch. It happened the same way nearly every day. "He doesn't deserve my spying on him," she sighed, falling into place among the shadows as he issued from the doorway, "but if I'm going to wait for Shang I have no other choice."

Wen Jian-Die was agreeable enough, and Mulan almost always felt guilty for having to shamelessly defame his character. He was smart, she had to admit – learned in mathematics, able to read several dialects, and capable of memorizing scores of quotations by philosophers all the way back to the Han dynasty. He was also fairly handsome, and she even found the pig-nose disappearing in the scheme of his face. Not that Mulan was moved by looks, but she did notice. Also she knew, as Madam Wen had reminded her, that several other village girls liked him, which slightly flattered her, though she would never pick Jian-Die over Shang. She was going to have to find a flaw in Jian-Die, and even though he was nice, she reasoned _he _was the one who came courting a girl who was nearly-but-not-quite-in-a-relationship-with-an-Imperial-captain, and so, she figured, he brought it on himself.

There was one problem with the Grand Plan, however, something Mulan had not thought of before.

Wen Jian-Die never did anything wrong.

His manners were impeccable. Fa Zhou and Fa Li had invited him into their house several times, and no matter what day it was, what hour, how he had been treated or how hard he had been studying during the day, he always showed great respect for Fa Zhou and Fa Li, befriended Grandma in spite of herself, and managed to show every possible nicety to Mulan.

So instead of trying to catch him doing something improper at her house, Mulan fell to spying on him in the village. Early on he had spotted her, but he said she must have missed him and wanted to see him, and of course that made things worse. So Mulan did her best to follow him without being caught. Each morning he arrived at the elderly scholar's house to learn his lessons. When Mulan returned during the afternoon break, he crossed the street and purchased a package of steamed rice, which he ate on the step outside the gate. And then he went home.

Mulan drove herself nearly crazy. "He's more polite than a bride," she mumbled desperately one day after the fifth delicate bite of his lunch. "Maybe he could teach _me_ some manners."

Today, though, after a week of spying, she saw something interesting. She had been loitering by the necklace stand waiting for Jian-Die's lunch hour, until the nervous salesman turned her away for fear she would steal from him. As Mulan turned the corner, she just saw her suitor carefully cross the street holding his hot rice packet in his palm, and he nearly walked into a tall, broad, dark man, who had apparently walked up from the other direction.

Mulan had never seen this man before. In fact, she had almost never seen Jian-Die have a conversation with anyone. Jian-Die himself almost looked confused; he glanced down the street in both directions, then looked up and said something short to the dark man. When the stranger gave his reply, Jian-Die stared down at his package but listened intently.

Mulan strained to hear. She could barely catch what the large dark man was saying, but she held her breath and somehow managed to make out the words.

"You've seen _nothing_? What do you mean you've seen _nothing_? You said you were a scholar and that no one would suspect – "

"I meant nothing worth _reporting_. That's good," Jian-Die interrupted evenly, never looking at the stranger but always staring at his package.

"Ah. Then the night is set?"

"I'll give you news later to make sure. There are soldiers camped outside the city. If I see no one here tonight, I will meet you at ten o'clock to tell you to carry out the mission. People…are staring at you."

"They won't be staring for long. What will the Emperor think of that?" Jian-Die's eyes rose to meet his companion's. A yellowed smile broke on the dark man's face, and for the first time, Mulan could see that he was a Hun. But that was the farthest thing from her mind. Instead, the words she'd just heard were throbbing in her brain.

"It can't be," she whispered to herself in disbelief, as Jian-Die disappeared beyond the grand gate, gone to chant poetry with his fellow scholars. "It just can't be possible." In a flood, Mulan remembered all Chien-Po had told her the night they came to visit. A spy. Someone no one suspected, working in league with the Huns to distract from some bigger plan. Villages burned because of it. And if what Mulan heard was true…her own village would burn.

Mulan ducked, shivering, into the shadows. "I have to tell Baba and Mama," she murmured, reversing course slowly, when her back came into collision with something big – and before she knew what was happening she was clattering to the ground, taking with her whatever or whoever she had backed into.

_Why can I never stay on my own two feet_? Mulan groaned desperately, picking herself up as fast as she could and extending her hand to her victim. But Mulan choked as she realized what had happened. A somewhat frightened crowd had formed and Mulan saw, sprawled prostrate in the middle, the matchmaker Madam Suo.

This could not be happening. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry," Mulan pleaded, anxious to help the woman to her feet and then _disappear_. She had to tell her parents about the spy. But that seemed out of the question, and there is nothing worse than a dull-minded woman who's been enraged and will say everything she thinks at once.

"You _wretched_ girl!" the matchmaker sputtered, on her feet quickly with the help of fellow villlagers. "What did you think you were doing? Spying on your betrothed, hmm? What unsurpassed audacity!"

"But you don't understand," Mulan protested, shrinking from the glares of the townsfolk. Things only got worse as a shrill barking rose over the din. "Hush, Chu!" Mulan bit her lip. At the back of the crowd that now filled the road a sedan chair had stopped, and Madam Wen's head issued from behind the curtain. "Driver, stop! What on earth is going on here?"

The crowd was only too eager to inform her, but Madam Suo was not to be kept quiet. "My lady, this _girl_, if you can call her that, knocked me down in the marketplace – after she finished spying on her betrothed. _Your_ son!"

Madam Wen stared incredulously at Mulan. "Is this true?"

"Not they way they're saying," Mulan insisted, sinking as she thought how badly this episode was going to affect her family's reputation.

"Ha! You say _that's_ not true?" Madam Suo sneered. "Then I'll tell you what is - fathers who are afraid to put their foot down usually have children who step on their toes!" The townspeople murmured and several nodded, and the matchmaker looked mightily pleased with herself.

Mulan had stared at the ground with a crimson face until now, trying to respectfully shield every comment so far in hopes that they would think her a proper young lady. But now any fear Madam Suo or Madam Wen or the villagers created in her was a mile away, and she looked the matchmaker square in the face.

"_Never_ speak of my father that way again," she said in a low, even voice. The crowd seemed just a bit startled by this – it began slowly to disperse. Madam Wen jerked the curtain of her sedan chair shut and sent her servant speeding down the street. Madam Suo adjusted her clothing and stomped in the direction of her house. And suddenly Mulan felt a hand close around her wrist; she was being towed out of the crowd by an arm without an apparent body.

Once she was alone with her rescuer, she realized in growing dismay it was her suitor. Mulan grew cold at the touch of Jian-Die's hand on her arm. He was not the same person she used to know. "Was it true what they said?" he hissed. Mulan knew from the expression of his face he wanted to find out what she knew. But she'd never reveal she'd been watching him.

"T-they were lying," she stammered. The scholar's face immediately relaxed.

"Oh. Of course they were. Then…are you all right?"

"I'm so sorry, please forgive me," Mulan whispered. She couldn't think. Keeping close to the side roads, a thousand thoughts racing through her brain, she somehow made it home.

All she could think was how she was seen in town: a worthless, clumsy, spying woman. Yet the scholar, one of the few people she thought she could trust, someone _everybody_ trusted, was the spy.

And he would be first to betray them all.


	7. Seven

_This is a very short part – I'll add the next one later this week._

**Part Seven**

"Mama, Baba! I have to tell you something," Mulan gasped, running into the family room. But she stopped. There were concerned and disturbed looks on everyone's faces, but Mulan guessed easily.

"Madam Wen was just here," Mama cried in distraction. "She's considering calling off the match, Mulan! What did you do?"

"My dear," Fa Zhou said to his wife, softly but firmly. "I'm sure that whatever happened, Mulan has a good explanation." They all looked expectantly at Mulan.

"Wen Jian-Die is a spy!" Mulan announced.

Grandma slapped her hand to her forehead and sighed at the absurdity.

"Enough!" cried Mama. "Mulan, Jian-Die is _not_ a spy. He is a respected _scholar_. A girl from a family like ours rarely makes such a match! This is not a _war_-zone Mulan. It's no place for secret missions or espionage."

"I'm telling the truth, Mama!" Mulan cried. "I heard it myself! He's – "

"Perhaps you heard incorrectly, Mulan?" Fa Zhou offered.

"_No_," Mulan insisted miserably.

"We're going to have to visit Madam Wen tonight, and perhaps young Wen Jian-Die will understand – perhaps the match can still be salvaged," Mama said seriously, "but that's all we can wish. You will have to settle down without expecting special treatment."

"But Mama, when news comes, when the Emperor's messengers arrive – "

"Well, they have _not_ come, Mulan. Captain Li has not returned. No one in the village knows of your victory, the very victory that saved their lives. They only remember how you shouted at the Emperor's counsel. Even if we _were_ to tell them, it would be nothing more than a legend to them. Women are not _soldiers_. Mulan, I'm only trying to tell you – you must put aside your boyish ways. No matter how your tomboyishness has helped you, no matter how you used it to save the rest, people only care that you are a lady. That you marry." Mulan looked helplessly to her father and grandmother, but Mama wasn't finished. "Mulan, it's awful, but it's true – you are not a hero here."

With that last sentence, Fa Li had crushed every hope Mulan had feebly built since she'd returned, every glimmer that she might mean something outside of her family's courtyard walls. And worst of all, everything Mama said had been true. Thousands had bowed to her in the Imperial City, but they were just aping the Emperor. And though the Emperor himself had stooped his shoulders in respect, the feeling must have disappeared the minute after.

Mulan stood stiffly in front of her family, the only ones who believed her, yet the first to admit that her bravery was worth nothing now that she was a woman again. So frozen she could not even grope for the comfort of her cropped hair, she somehow managed to regard her mother.

"I've spent most of my life trying to convince my family and myself that I was worth something. When I was in the army, for a brief minute I felt it. Then I was a hero. It seems I may never be able to get that feeling back."

She wanted to leave, she almost wanted to let the village burn, and she scolded herself even for the unsaid thought. She started to retreat into her room.

"Mulan, wait," Grandma said. Mulan stopped. Grandma hobbled over and looked her granddaughter straight in the eye. "Mulan, you and I know how your mother tends to…ramble. What she's trying to say is this: _you_ know who you are, _we_ know who you are, and a few thousand people in the Imperial _City_ know who you are. But the people around here still need to find out. And only you can make them see."

Mulan couldn't quite reply. Instead, she turned her face away, and slunk out of the room.

"That's not exactly what we meant, Grandma," Fa Li said after Mulan disappeared. Now Grandma looked her daughter-in-law in the eye.

"She'll go to her room, she'll cry a little, then she'll think about what I said. And she'll do what she needs to." Grandma stubbornly pushed a strand of white hair out of her face. "That's how Fa women roll."

* * *

"She's already cryin'," Mushu argued. "Now's the time to tell 'er."

Cri-Kee wasn't so sure. Wouldn't the news of Mulan's upcoming death make things worse? But it was too late to convince Mushu. He had already crept inside the room. "Mulan?" the dragon called. "I brought some te-ea. How ya feelin', girl?"

"Fine, Mushu. Thanks, but I don't need that now."

Mushu's jaw dropped. _This_ wasn't the despondent Mulan he expected. He thought she would be so upset, she would have jumped out the window. (Of course it was the ground floor, but Mushu would have done it, and it would have splatted him.) In fact, the only sign of emotion in the darn girl were her eyes, which were red-rimmed and a little watery. Otherwise she was downright normal!

"Your ma just yelled at you!" Mushu said with a bit of resentment. "Arentcha upset?"

"I was," Mulan admitted. She was hunched over her writing desk, scribbling notes and a simple sketch that looked like a map on a scrap of parchment. She absently took a gulp of tea and immediately made a face. "Mushu, this is cold."

"I didn't want you to scald yourself," he said, feeling a panic coming on. "Go on."

"But I thought about what Mama and Grandma said," she said in a serious voice. "They were both right. It would probably be a good idea to settle down. I'm not going to be a celebrity, that's for sure, and the Emperor's not sending the message, so things really are going back to normal, and I have to accept that. And I_ would _marry Jian-Die. If he weren't a spy – which he is.

"Like Grandma said, I know who I am, and I have to trust myself. Not everyone's going to believe in me. No matter what I do, or how I change, how much I try to conform, it's impossible to impress everyone. In a world like this, you have to fight battles every day. I forgot that. But I have a plan now."

"Does this plan involve going outside?" Mushu asked, hoping it didn't. There were all kinds of dangers out there.

"Well, yeah. I'm going to invite Jian-Die over to "patch things up". But I'm really just going to keep him here. If his mother is so concerned with appearances, she'll probably _make_ him come, even though she dislikes me. And then he won't be able to deliver his message, and I'll send for soldiers to come and capture him. But I'll need your help."

Mushu had to think about it. Mulan thought that was incredible.

"_Mushu_!"

"Okay Mulan, I'll help. If you promise me something."

"What is it?"

"I want you to stay inside tonight," he said decisively. He figured she couldn't get hurt inside, and spring was definitely going to be here by the morning. What could kill her in her own house? Well, maybe chopsticks. He'd have to get rid of those.

Mulan considered this. "All right, Mushu, whatever you say. I need you to deliver a message to Jian-Die. Can you do that?"

"You bet I can!" said Mushu, enthusiastic now. He still had that man suit he used to deliver the message to Chi Fu in the army. "But even if we get him here, how will you keep him here?"

"Oh, I have my ways," said Mulan, smiling mischievously. She took the enameled magnolia hair comb from a drawer in her night table. "If it's a lady everyone wants, then it's a lady they'll get. After all, no one knows _I'm_ a hero. So Jian-Die won't be suspicious. Besides, who would ever suspect a woman? You know, Mushu, sometimes, it takes a_ woman_ to save the day."

And she placed the comb firmly in her hair.


	8. Eight

**Part Eight**

The house of Wen was turned upside-down. Madam had come home in abstraction, and she had held a shouting match with her son, and locked herself in her room. Night was falling, and Master Wen was currently nowhere to be found. Someone thought he was preparing to go out. He had seemed to be getting ready for a visit.

Needless to say, it took a while for the frightened little maid to answer the knock at the door. "Who is it, girl?" hissed young Master Wen, who had been out of sorts all afternoon, pulling the door open.

"I – I don't know." Master Wen nearly fired her on the spot, but when he saw the apparent servant at the door, he couldn't blame her. Strangely wobbly, with arms that seemed to be fixed on backwards, the man began to speak from beneath a helmet that completely shaded his face.

"Hullo!" it boomed. "I am a servant to the Fa family. Yeah! You better believe it! Uh, they offer they uh…abject apologies, and they seek to remedy any _shame_ they've caused. Honorable Fa Zhou requests your appearance to Settle The Match."

"I cannot come tonight," said Jian-Die automatically, a spark of fear leaping into his chest at the mere thought of his message being delayed.

"Wait!" cried the servant, flapping his arms as Jian-Die bgan to shut the door.

"Of _course_ he will come tonight," said a voice from behind Jian-Die's head.

"_Mother_…" the scholar warned. The smile stretched across his mother's face as she spoke to the servant, but she frowned on her son. "Fa Mulan has always been a disgraceful young girl, but she was _your_ choice, and I treated her well for your sake. Now _you_ are going to patch things up. Appearances are everything, Jian-Die, and I will not hear it said that the house of Wen is unforgiving."

The Fa servant watched gleefully as Mulan's plan was put into action almost perfectly. The young scholar, despite many protests of some prior engagement, was pushed into a painted carriage which shuttled down the road at Wen Lei's command.

"Excellent," Mushu murmured from inside the man suit, and flopped away back to the house.

* * *

It was pitch black by the time Fa Zhou and Fa Li went out, and as soon as the door shut behind them at nine o'clock, Grandma announced it was time to go to bed. So she heated some milk and donned her slippers, and puncutually retired to her room.

"And _that's_ set," Mulan said, checking to be sure Grandma was firmly in bed. "And the spy should be here any minute. I called on Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po. I need them to deliver this scroll to the troops stationed outside the village."

"Hey, watch it! You might papercut yourself and who knows what could happen?" Mushu cried hysterically.

"Hush. It's important. They're instructions for the leading officer to send troops, in case we need help."

Mushu looked at her quizzically. Mulan knew what he was thinking – if she were wrong, or even if she could not prove Jian-De was the spy, alerting the troops would only make her a fool. But she had to take the chance.

There was a knock at the door.

"That's him," Mulan whispered. Straightening the collar on her jacket, and even tucking the strand of hair into her comb, she behaved like a proper lady would and politely answered the spy's knock.

"Good evening, Master Wen," she said, winningly. He blinked.

"Ah…good evening, Miss Fa. I don't have much time, you see."

_I'm sure you don't_, Mulan thought in disgust. But she instead yanked him inside by the arm.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?" he asked quickly.

"I invited you here to patch things up. I behaved badly in town, and I hope you won't be ashamed to have me as your bride," she said slowly. She noticed that an odd look – was it regret? – passed over the spy's face. But it was gone in an instant.

"Please, sit down. Sit _down_." Mulan smilingly pushed him into a chair, but he looked as if that was the last place he wanted to be. _Perfect_.

"Tea?" Mulan offered. Looking half-defeated already, Jian-Die dully pushed the teacup forward, and Mulan filled it. Well, so far she had been able to detain him. Ten minutes: done. Only one hour to go!

Jian-Die squirmed as Mulan related boring small-talk, discussed the garden, all sorts of brainless airhead topics, but as she was a lady, Jian-Die couldn't just get up and leave.

"Hey, Mulan? Ya home?" A piping voice came from the family room, followed a shush, a slap, and an "Ow!"

"What was that?" Jian-Die asked, looking as if he would jump out of his skin.

Mulan kept her smile plastered to her face, but was thinking very manly expletives in her head. "Ah…I'll go see."

In the family room, she found Ling rubbing his arm, Yao grunting his own very manly expletives, and Chien-Po ready with an explanation.

"You were _supposed to knock_," Mulan hissed, shoving them back out the doorway. "Don't explain, we don't have much time. Here. I need you to take this scroll to the nearest camp," she said, pressing it into Chien-Po's hands. "Ask for the soldiers' help. Have them bring back as much help as they can, and quickly, before he gets away. _But don't tell anyone else_ – anybody could be a spy. Do you understand?" Mulan hurried the gang of three out the door. "It's important, and I know I can count on you. Now _go!_"

"Don't worry, Mulan," Chien-Po insisted.

"We'll get the job done!" Yao agreed.

"Yeah, you can count on us!" Ling exclaimed.

Mulan simply shushed them, and shut the door behind them.

* * *

Giving the gang of three a task was one thing. Knowing if they would successfully execute it was quite another.

They created a lot of problems.

For instance, as soon as the house door slammed behind them their cries of "You can count on us!" ceased, and Yao muttered, "Now what?"

They stood staring blankly at each other for a few minutes, until it struck them that the first order of business was finding a way to get there. Chien-Po scanned the premises until he happened to light on Khan, whose large black form could barely be distinguished in the darkness. "There's Mulan's horse," he announced, motioning for Yao and Ling to follow. "He's grazing. Maybe we can ask him if he'd like to transport us."

"_Ask_ him?" Yao echoed in disbelief. Chien-Po didn't answer. He simply climbed over the gate and peacefully regarded the disturbed horse. "Hello, friend. We would like to ride you, if you do not mind. Do you remember me? I picked you up in the Tung Shao pass." Chien-Po put out his broad hand. "You seem troubled, friend. Let us chant. Ya mi ah to fu da…"

But all the chanting in the world would not convince Khan to leave his stable without genuine Fa permission. He knew better than that. Last time he had run off without a human Grandma had beat him with a stick.

"Hey, Chien-Po, I don't think it's working," Ling exclaimed finally, after nearly being kicked in the head by the plunging horse. "And we're kinda, y'know, _wasting time_."

Chien-Po sighed. "I did not want to use force." But without further ado he grasped Khan by his rope and towed the jerking animal behind him as lightly as a feather.

Once they were out of the gate and halfway down the path that would lead them to the open road, they assumed Khan would be more agreeable. Yao immediately hopped up on him, rocking as if that would make him move. "Yah!" He kicked Khan in the flank, and Khan promptly pitched him into the bushes.

"Nice job, Yao," Ling remarked.

"Stupid dumb animal!" Yao growled. "I'll show you!"

Chien-Po picked him up in mid-tirade. "I hate violence, the horse clearly dislikes you, and we are wasting time. _I'll_ ride him."

Khan neighed in terror of his life and Yao and Ling cried, "Wait, don't, you'll kill him!"

Chien-Po crossed his arms and waited for a better idea. "I'll ride him," Ling suggested. Khan still seemed ready to bolt, but Ling hissed, "Listen, horse, it's either me or Chubs." So Khan stood still. Ling rushed forward like a toppling scarecrow, aimed for Khan's saddle, sailed over the other side and finally pulled himself up by the saddle-horn.

At last, after thirty minutes, they were out on the open road.

"I think we're makin' good time," Ling said optimistically, after they had traveled ten miles, the last three of which Khan had walked without threatening to buck them all to kingdom come.

"I hope we are able to fulfill our task," Chien-Po said in an anxious voice, checking his tunic pocket to make sure the scroll was safe and sound. It was at this point they were distracted by a series of grunts coming from Yao. Chien-Po, who was always looking for a chance to inject some enlightenment into the situation, reined Khan to a halt.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Ling exploded. "Why'd you stop him? We just got him going again!" Ling clapped his hand to his forehead in despair. Chien-Po ignored his skinny friend and asked gently, "Yao, what is it you seek?"

Both Ling and Yao looked at him blankly. Yao fidgeted in his jacket. "I – "

"Are you seeking Peace?" Chien-Po placed his palms together serenely.

"No, I – "

"Contentment?"

"No, listen – "

"Do you need – "

"I need for my jacket to quit stabbing me in the back!" Yao roared. He tore off his coat to expose his stocky hairy torso (which made Chien-Po redden and Ling gag) and ripped away a shred of a scroll pinned to the lining.

"What's this?" Yao grumbled, turning the paper every way to decipher the symbols which were perfectly foreign to him and to everyone else who couldn't read.

"Why, they are directions," Chien-Po murmured as an answer.

"Hey, look," Ling exclaimed, glimpsing two familiar characters as he slid off Khan's back. "Mu – Lan. Mulan wrote it!" They all crowded around the quickly drawn map, Yao with the vague suspicion that Mulan had been taking indecent liberties with his clothing.

"I wonder where she wishes us to go," Chien-Po remarked slowly, absorbed in the map as if it were a novel. "She desires us to turn left at this pass; she must have been thinking – "

"Shut up, I don't need directions," Yao interrupted. Chien-Po sighed and Ling braced himself for Yao's self-empowering speech. "Directions. Hmph. I don't need no directions. I got _instinct_. Pure primal instinct. Yeah, I know you two wish you had it, but ya _don't_, so how about you listen to me and – "

"Shut up, Yao," Ling groaned, and yanked the map from his hand. Whether he was simply annoyed or he was wishing someone would take indecent liberties with _his_ clothing, his ears turned red with irritation as he scanned the map and jerked a narrow finger eastward. "We go thattaway." Suddenly he cocked his head, listening for a sound he thought he heard coming around the rocks that created a craggy wall to their left side. Yao and Chien-Po were discussing possible ways Mulan could have pinned the note unnoticed, and they didn't hear it.

"Guys," Ling stammered nervously, "Guys? I think I…hey…are you listening to me…guys…!"

"WHAT?" Yao roared.

"Well, now you've offended me," Ling sniffed.

"What is it, Ling?" Chien-Po pressed.

"Well, you see, I could be wrong…but I think…"

"WHAT?"

"I think that's Captain Li coming – r-right this way!"

They all fell silent and craned their necks to hear any sound, and sure enough they heard Captain Li's voice, apparently reciting a speech of some sort. They all gasped simultaneously.

"He's going to find Mulan with the spy," Chien-Po whispered, "another man!"

"What are we gonna do?" Ling screeched. "Mulan's counting on us!"

"I know," Yao said earnestly, "I'll knock 'im out!"

"What if we just explained what Mulan is doing?" Chien-Po suggested.

Yao and Ling looked at him as if the idea was absurd. "Nah."

"We'd better distract him," Ling announced. "Come on!"


	9. Nine

_Sorry for the delay folks – my computer crashed and I wasn't even sure the story survived! But here we are and guess who's finally in the story? Shang!_

**Part Nine**

Shang had labored with his stutter for a long time, and sometimes he had to use tongue-twisters as a means to keep glib. Of course he never did it in public. He had to keep face. He had just successfully finished three rounds of "Confucius caught a crate of crabs crawling 'cross the cliff" and was about to launch into the rough draft of his speech when he noticed, with dismay, the three foot-soldiers he had just rid himself of a week before. He wondered if they had heard him recounting Confucius' adventures, and assumed his strictest face in order to make up for any loss of dignity.

"Soldiers," he said gruffly, rearing his white stallion Ghengis to a halt.

"Hiya, Captain!" Ling cried with screeching enthusiasm.

"Hello, Captain," Chien-Po said, bowing and removing his cap. "You look – different."

"Didja get a haircut, buddy?" Ling shrieked, nerves getting the best of him.

Shang stared at Ling vacantly, which further offended the skinny soldier. "No," he answered finally. But he turned a bit so the moon would glint off his armor.

"HEY! You aren't a captain anymore! You're a – " Ling paused, unable to recognize the significance of the colors, but not wanting to leave a gap in conversation in effort to keep the distraction. "Say, uh, what_ are_ you?"

"I'm a general," Shang explained with a bit of pride. "The Emperor offered me my father's position. I'm scouting out a return for the Emperor's attendants – they're coming across the country to announce Fa Mulan's victory."

This news excited the soldiers – it might mean Mulan would get the recognition she deserved! But they also noticed General Li's formality with Mulan's name, and the gang of three couldn't help but glance at each other. Perhaps Shang realized, because he added hastily – "I'll be doing that, among other things."

"_Other_ things?" Ling insinuated, but was elbowed severely by Yao.

"General," Chien-Po said, giving both of them a disapproving look, "now is not the time to visit Mulan's family."

Shang looked at him sharply. "Why not?"

Chien-Po looked helplessly at his friends for assistance. Ling jumped in to "help". "Ahhh, because, ahhh…."

"And why are you riding Kh – Mulan's horse?" Shang demanded.

All three gave Khan a venomous look, which he calmly returned. "It's a funny story," Ling began.

"I don't have time for this," Shang groaned. "Move aside." He made a lunge at the pathway, but Ling darted Khan in front of him without knowing exactly what he would do.

"Move _aside_, soldier," Shang said in a steely voice. "In the presence of your…superior."

It seemed to hurt Shang to say it, but his tongue was untied and he had his speech prepared, and he was determined to get to Mulan's house before he came unnerved. As it was, however, it hurt Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po more to think they were below him, and they dejectedly moved to the side of the path. Shang nodded a slightly guilty farewell, then kicking Ghengis in the flank he galloped away down the road.

"SUPERIOR?" Yao roared when Shang was out of earshot. "I'LL GIVE YA SUPERIOR, PRETTY BOY! HOW'D YA LIKE TO MEET THE SUPERIOR SIDE OF MY FIST!"

"Now is not the time," Chien-Po said wearily, as Yao pummeled an imaginary General Shang. "He's going to discover Mulan! And she's _with another man_!"

"Maybe we should go back," Ling suggested, scrubbing his neck in anxiety.

"But the scroll – " Yao argued.

"Without proper knowledge General Li could upset the plan badly and possibly ruin it," Chien-Po considered, "and if we were to tell him, perhaps he could help us. And _he _will get there long before we can rouse the soldiers and come back."

"Yeah, but don't we need all the help we can get?" Ling asked.

"Ya got me and the General, I think we'll be fine," Yao said confidently. Ling rolled his eyes.

Chien-Po went on, "It _is_ only one spy, and if we plan correctly, I think the efforts of ourselves and General Li could be more helpful." Chien-Po placed his hands together, thought for a moment, and said, "I am going to make an executive decision. Do you agree we should return?"

"Mulan doesn't want us to…but yeah, I guess," Ling agreed.

"Plus the general's gonna be real mad if he finds her with another guy," Yao added. "And he'll prob'ly kill 'im anyway. Come on, let's go."

They all stared warily at Khan, knowing it would be hard to convince him. But fortunately, Ling had clapped his hands over the horse's ears at the start of the conversation, so Khan knew nothing of the matter. He paused a bit when they turned him back toward the house, but soon they were walking toward the Fa estate, each of Khan's stubborn steps taking them closer to the house where Mulan was alone with the spy. And each step taking them farther away from their assigned destination.

* * *

For forty-five minutes Mulan successfully put into practice every feminine manner her mother had ever drilled into her, repeated practically her whole matchmaking routine, and made Jian-Die sit through a very pretty recitation of the one epic poem she'd ever learned, which happened to be forty-five pages long. With each passing minute he grew more perturbed – excuses came frequently, yet Mulan airily dismissed them all. Once, something clattered in the family room, and when Mulan rushed to see what it was she realized Mushu had lost a game of Mah Jhong to the cricket and was throwing a fit.

Jian-Die was on his feet when Mulan returned to the kitchen, and Mulan gasped inwardly. She walked toward him with mincing steps, yet trying to formulate a plan as she went. But Jian-Die hoisted the bag he'd been carrying onto his shoulder, and he pretended to dust crumbs from his trousers.

"I'd better be going."

Going!

"No, stay," Mulan coaxed, a spark of fear leaping into her chest. "I…want you to."

He was a good double agent. He already had an excuse ready. "Your father isn't here, and it's not proper, and I have somewhere to be. Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Fa – "

Mulan thought she heard hoofbeats at the front gate.

_Soldiers_. The gang of three must have made good time delivering the message.

As she paused to listen Jian-Die had edged toward the back door.

"Do stay!" Mulan pleaded. She grabbed his arm, but all of a sudden he suspected something. His eyes met hers, and no longer was there the look of embarrassment and distance that was usually there. It was as if two opposing armies had just met. He wrenched her hand from his wrist and had his own hand on the handle of the door, and he nearly got away.

But he stopped in mid-action. His hand dropped from the doorknob, his eyes flew open then slowly closed, and he went nowhere for ten long seconds. Because Fa Mulan did the unthinkable.

She had pushed the spy Wen Jian-Die's face to hers, and kissed him.

* * *

"Honorable Fa Zhou," Shang repeated to himself as he dismounted Ghengis and hurried to the courtyard gate at the Fa house, which was shut for the night. "Honorable Fa Zhou, I would like to speak with you on an important matter. Oh great, do I sound like an idiot."

Shang ran a hand over his hair in aggravation, then adjusted his new armor (especially the shoulder pads which tended to go crooked), spread out his cape, and propped his helmet under one arm. "Honorable Fa Zhou, Honorable Fa Zhou…" he muttered, and taking a large breath, he knocked politely on the closed gate door.

No answer.

"Oh great…" he groaned, knocking louder, and terrified he would lose the bit of nerve he still had. Still no one came. In desperation, Shang tied Ghengis to a tree and shakily stood on the horse's back, grasping onto the wall of the gate to search for any activity inside. To his surprise, lights dully illuminated the front windows of the house, and he saw figures moving around inside. "They must not have heard me," he told himself, sliding to the ground. "And I _am_ a friend to the family…it would be perfectly fine to at least knock at the house door." He looked at Ghengis, who betrayed no sign of emotion, so Li Shang made an executive decision and pulled open the door of the gate.

"It feels like trespassing." But he hoped that with the impression his speech and his new position would make, no one would mind too much.

As he neared the house, picking his way slowly in the dark, he could see even more clearly the shadows moving inside. It was almost as if he were watching puppets behind a screen. Presently, he was distracted by a glow in the back of the house, which he realized came from the open back door. His heart leapt, but he kept it down as manfully as he could. "This is it," he breathed, and stepped into the open doorway.

* * *

It had seemed to go on for years – she was so close she could smell the ink Jian-Die used in his studies that day, but there was no pleasure in it for Mulan. Her only thought was, "I caught him! I caught him in time! Now if only the soldiers would hurry!"

A form appeared by the window, it blocked the light in the doorway, and finally Mulan detached herself to cry, "It's the spy!" when the words died in her throat.

"_Shang_?"

"WHAT WAS _THAT_?" the soldier demanded, marching into the room and standing right in Mulan's face as he used to in the army. "YOU _KISSED _HIM! And _who was_ that anyway? I'm – "

"Shang – "

"gone for one month and – "

"_Shang, listen_ – "

"you can't keep your hands off some village – "

"Shang, he's the _spy_, and he's getting away!"

Finally he understood. "The spy for the Huns? Are you serious? That was _him_?"

"YES! Hurry, Shang, he's getting away! He's going outside the city – probably by the rocky pass, to deliver his message. If you hurry, you can catch him!"

Shang oscillated between Mulan and the door.

"Uh, are you coming?"

"Of course. Now go!"

Shang turned to leave, then turned back again. "Sorry about my tirade, you look lovely – " he began.

"GO!"

Mulan threw ashes on the fire and called upstairs, "Grandma, I'm going out!" She was nearly out the door when she was stopped in her tracks. "Mushu, get out of the way!"

"Nuh-uh, Mulan. I can't let you do this."

Mulan tried to pick the tiny dragon from the threshold. "Mushu, I don't have time!"

"You _can't go_!" he told her, planting his little feet firmly and crossing his arms.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because, you're cursed!"

Mulan stared at him. She didn't believe him. "I'm _what_? What are you talking – "

"You've been cursed," Mushu said anxiously, "and because of a mistake your stupid ancestor made you're gonna die when spring returns, and if you go out there tonight I think it's gonna be the last night you'll ever live."

Mulan's hand hesitated on the handle of the door; she glanced at the trees bursting into bloom all around her, and for a moment it seemed her face faltered. But that was soon gone. "Mushu, he's getting away – I'm going."

"Wait, wait!" Mushu cried, all comedy gone now as he latched onto her leg. "Why would you get _your_self killed, for the chance that 'maybe' something will happen in the village? These people hate you! They don't deserve your help!" Mushu was still holding on to the one feeble hope that maybe if Mulan stayed tonight, if she could survive the night before spring came, then death would pass her by.

But Mulan couldn't do that. She said to him resolutely, "Mushu, I _can't _stay. All the time since I've come home, I've been complaining about how _I've_ been treated, as if I'd learned nothing from war or grown up in the process." She paused, ready to chide herself for it even then. "I've realized I expected something in return, and I shouldn't have. I guess I _did_ want to be a celebrity. And now, it seems like, for the first time since I've been back, I've realized it's not all about me. If Jian-Die delivers his message, all the innocent people here will be in danger and the whole town will burn. Besides, if what you say is true, I'm going to die anyway. And this time I – "

"So, you're gonna risk your life, _again,_ for the people who think you're less than dirt."

"It's the heroic thing to do, Mushu." Mulan's voice cracked, but she steadied herself as she last looked at her guardian. "And if I die, I truly die with honor."

And she was gone.

In the back of his mind, it had seemed to Mushu that Mulan could never get more courageous or more honorable than she was the night she saved China.

But she just had.

Mushu looked at Cri-Kee.

Cri-Kee looked at Mushu.

"What, you think I'm gonna let her do this on her own?" Cri-Kee and Mushu looked in dismay at their short legs, which would never carry them fast enough. "That's a problem." Mushu looked around the room for something wheeled he could use as transport, when he spied Lil' Brother, snoring by the smoldering fire and kicking his leg as he chased chickens in his dream.

Mushu looked at Cri-Kee.

Cri-Kee looked at Mushu.

"That'll work."


	10. Ten

_The story is almost over, but it's been my greatest success yet! Please keep the reviews coming, I'm really appreciating all your thoughts on the story!_

**Part Ten**

Ghengis was rearing at the gate, and Mulan realized Shang had gone on foot and left the horse behind for her. Unlike Khan, the Imperial stallion was calmed in an instant, and Mulan was tearing down the street after the escaped spy.

She knew she was steadily gaining on them when suddenly Ghengis stopped and shied, nearly throwing Mulan to the ground as he picked his feet off the rocky trail. Mulan dismounted and left the horse where he stood. She didn't have time to waste. She would have to go by foot.

She stared uneasily at the path ahead. It hadn't been paved for frequent travel, and was littered with rocks and sliced with ravines. Mushu's words echoed in her head. But she pushed onward down the track.

It all happened quickly. When Mulan turned the curve, she could see distinctly two figures in the road, both fighting as fiercely as they could. Shang had him – but he was struggling to keep the spy in his grip, who tore at his face and pulled at his cape to get away. And then, in one sickening moment, Jian-Die gained the upper hand, and with both inky fists clenched together he struck Shang on his bare head. Shang crumpled weakly to the ground.

Mulan felt she couldn't breathe. But she knew she could. "Stop!"

The spy whirled, unaware of Mulan's presence until now, and leaping toward him she pushed him to the ground, catching him in utter surprise. His fist plunged repeatedly into the air, but Mulan blocked every one, her hair flying wildly, her body colliding with the ground in the fight. Finally, in one swift move, she hoisted the disoriented spy up and slammed him against the rocky cliff wall. Struggle as he might, he couldn't break loose – Mulan was putting her military study into action.

"I swear, Miss Fa, don't try to stop me," he threatened, wrenching at her wrists without luck, his actions contrasting sharply with his habitually polite "Miss." But Mulan was angry – angry he had hurt Shang and angry he was making her do this. She forced herself to speak calmly.

"Jian-Die, don't go through with this," Mulan pleaded, still keeping him tight and shoving her entire body against him. "You have a full life. You're a scholar!"

"Little good that will do me, when I'm killed for failing the Huns," he said bitterly, writhing in her grasp. He tried to duck under her arm, but Mulan pressed him tighter.

"If you do this," Mulan argued, "you'll be killing hundreds of innocent people. How could you _live_, knowing that?"

Mulan faced Jian-Die. He seemed to be struggling with himself, and he stopped trying to remove her. Slowly, she released her grasp. "Don't ruin your life, Jian-Die. Whatever you think this will bring you, trust me – it's not worth the price."

Jian-Die looked up, and Mulan gave him a small smile. But Jian-Die was not looking at the heroine. He was looking behind her. He seemed to be thinking.

"You know, it's funny," he said in an altered voice, "how, whenever we meet, you're always falling?"

"Wha – ?" Mulan cried, but she couldn't finish. The breath was knocked from her chest as Jian-Die threw his weight against her and hurled Mulan into the ravine behind. The world sailed up as Mulan spiraled down, and then it crashed around her. The last thing she saw was the face of the spy, and then everything on earth disappeared into black.

* * *

The spy stopped, and stared about him in the eerie silence. Then he tore down the road, no longer the scholar Wen Jian-Die, who would have been horrified by the crimes he'd just committed. He was filled instead with the horror of what would happen to _him_. Selfishness and fear blocked any flicker that was ever noble in the poor young man who had been captured by the Huns so long ago. He had wounded an Imperial soldier and possibly killed his own betrothed, but the only thought in his mind was "How can I save myself?"

Because, you see, Wen Jian-Die was no hero. There are some _men_ who will never be worth anything, either.

The moon was high in the sky when Wen Jian-Die made it to the main highway. Half-blind with fear, mind plotting every course he could take to reach the awaiting Huns, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him until, suddenly, he was on his _own_ back, thanks to a large and slightly squishy obstacle in the road.

"A thousand pardons," he heard the obstacle say as he scrambled to his feet. "Why, friend, where are you going?"

Jian-Die stared in disbelief at the giant man in front of him – who looked almost like a legendary spirit come to punish him – and the two companions who followed him. All three of them blocked his way down the road.

"Friend?" the large man repeated, concerned.

"Hey uh, Chien-Po? Y'know, I'm thinking he's not exactly a friend."

The gang of three observed the newcomer who was drenched in sweat, whose eyes were darting like a frightened animal and whose hands were smeared with a distinct red stain.

"Oh," Chien-Po said calmly, without taking his eyes off the spy. "Well then. Ling, Yao, do we have any rope?"

"You bet we do," Yao grinned maliciously, holding his pants up with one hand and unthreading his belt with the other. Chien-Po took it deliberately, and returned his attention to their captive.

"A thousand pardons, friend. But you are coming with _us_."

* * *

"C'mon, Lil' Bro! Pump it! Mush!" Lil' Brother scrambled along the rocky path, veered sharply to his right as Mushu yanked on his ear, and with a wide arc somehow managed to turn the corner.

Cri-Kee saw it before Mushu did. He shrilled incoherently and Mushu looked in every direction, then gasped. Mulan's man Shang slumped against the cliff wall. The dark stain of blood had tracked down his face, and his head dropped to one side. Mushu bounded off the dog. "Aw, man, man, wake up!" He climbed onto Shang's shoulder, slipping on his armor, and slapped at his face. He stretched open an eyelid. "Wake up, man! WHERE'S MULAN?"

"Mulan…" Shang groaned.

Solja'-boy being useless at the moment, Mushu tried to think up a different plan to locate Mulan, when he was distracted by Lil' Brother, who was frantically barking. Mushu turned irritably to see the dog staring into a ravine. Mushu stomped up to him. "Ya stupid dog, now is _not the time_. Oh no. Oh _no_!"

The dragon's eyes grew wide with fear at what he saw. Mulan was sprawled out in the bottom of the ravine, livid bruises growing all over her body. Without a thought Mushu tumbled down into the ditch.

"I _told_ you girl. I _told_ you!" He pushed the hair from her face, but she didn't move. She was barely breathing, and her skin was cold.

Mushu could hardly move. He had failed as guardian, and what was worse, he had failed Mulan. What could he do without Mulan? "You _can't_ die, Mulan," he whispered. "You don't know how much we need you."

But the curse was true, and it had nearly claimed her.


	11. Eleven

**Part Eleven**

Shang began to stir and, groaning, opened his eyes. He had a misty thought connected to Mulan, but he couldn't place it. His head pounded as if hoofbeats were stomping through it. Wait. It _was_ hoofbeats.

"Come on, you stupid horse!" he heard a familiar voice – Ling's – grumbling, and an unintelligible mumbling followed. "Shut up," came Yao's voice.

Shang stumbled to his feet in an effort to validly address the gang of three, but it was _four_ men who came into view.

The new man was tied with a rope and gagged with a bright blue cap.

"Soldiers!" Shang cried incredulously, but forced to steady himself from the exertion, "That's – that's the spy!"

"He was trying to escape!" Ling said proudly.

"We knew it was him," Yao put in, "'cause he was all bloody and he was_ hoofin' _it!"

"But he ran right into Chien-Po!" Ling said. "I guess it was really Chien-Po who caught him."

"He is a misguided soul," Chien-Po said regretfully. The he saw the pain on Shang's face.

"Mulan was fighting him," the general said dimly. "He was her betrothed. But he knocked me out, and I didn't see what happened. I – I don't know where she is."

The gang of three stared at Jian-Die. Chien-Po pulled the cap from his mouth and faced him expectantly.

"Well?"

"She's down there," the spy said wearily.

They all swivelled toward the cruel-looking ravine. "_There_?"

Shang fully recovered in an instant and entirely forgetting his own injury leapt down into the ravine. He was met with the sight of a bloody, motionless body.

"She unconscious!" he yelled hoarsely. "Somebody, give me a hand!"

With one arm he grasped onto Chien-Po's calmly outstretched palm. With the other, he carefully supported the fading form of Fa Mulan.

* * *

"Outta the way!"

The doors to the Fa property flew wide open, and Grandma in her nightshirt led the way. With a single candle she provided light enough to guide them to Mulan's room. Shang laid her carefully on the bed.

"My daughter, my daughter! What has happened?" Fa Zhou demanded. He and his wife had returned from their night out at the exact moment the general and foot-soldiers came galloping feverishly from the opposite direction. "Tell me what has happened!" Shang quickly related all he knew.

"She gave her life for us," Fa Li said hollowly, her eyes seeming to stare at nothing.

"This show's not over yet!" Grandma announced. "You – " she thrust a mortar and pestle into Yao's hands – "grind this. Li, you help me."

Fa Li, overcome with unspeakable grief, still sank by her daughter's side with an air of resolution. The makeup Mulan had carefully applied earlier that evening was streaked with dust, sweat, and blood. He hair was dishevelled. With shaking fingers, Fa Li removed the heirloom comb and softly set it aside.

Yao had been gnashing at the mortar and pestle with superhuman strength; he handed the bowl of herbs to Grandma, and treatment began. Ling had gone to alert the night watchmen of their important catch. Chien-Po glanced scornfully at the spy who, still tied and gagged, sat watching the progress from his corner. He looked miserable, but Chien-Po suspected angrily that he was more concerned with his own fate than Mulan's. Besides, he seemed to be a thief, too – Chien-Po had seen a strange ornament in his bag when the gang had rifled through it for weapons or intelligence. Something made of jade.

Shang paced anxiously, cape swirling. He jerked the knot loose and hung it on a peg, and his eyes fell on Fa Zhou. The honorable Fa Zhou, who had been an Imperial general before his own father. Long before Shang himself.

But the appearance of Fa Zhou now was terrible. Watching with vacant eyes as his mother and wife flitted about his daughter, who, like a cut flower, wilted more each moment, his face became drawn and pale. He appeared, as he stood there, to grow old – to age several years. At last he uttered a short, broken cry, and fled from the house.

* * *

Mushu had ridden on Mulan's shoulder unnoticed most of the way home, until that skinny soldier shrieked "Snake!" and chucked him to the roadside. He had continued the rest of the way on Lil' Brother's back.

He and Cri-Kee were now pacing through the family shrine. Mushu could hardly breathe. He wasn't being dramatic. He really wished he were dead. He trampled flower petals for comfort. Why should _they_ live when Mulan was going to die?

Suddenly he felt Cri-Kee's pull at his elbow, and Mushu ducked out of the way to avoid Fa Zhou, who rushed into the temple. He held a long lighted match and it crashed and clanged as he flung it into the incense dish.

"Honorable ancestors, honorable ancestors," he murmured, abjectly flattening himself to the cold stone floor, "please let my daughter live. Take me. She will not know how sorely she will be missed. It is better anyone died than my daughter. She thought she had to prove herself to us – again. She did _not_. _Please._"

Mushu hid behind a gravestone until Fa Zhou picked himself shakily from the floor. He blew out the match, and then he went away.

The temple flashed with light, and First Ancestor Fa appeared before Mushu.

"I tried to stop her!" Mushu cried, "But I failed! Punish me, First Ancestor, I'm awful!"

"Mulan is going to die." First Ancestor shook his head solemnly.

"Duh!" Mushu cried.

"There is nothing to be done about it." First Ancestor was accepting of the truth. But Mushu turned fierce.

"You don't even care that she's going to die! You think she'll be fun to play bingo with on Saturdays! You don't even want to save her!" he shrieked.

"Mushu." First Ancestor acted as if he were speaking to a crazy person. "You know there is nothing to be done except the reverse the curse, and that is impossible. There is only one jade flower like it in the world, and the spirits will not be appeased any other way."

"I know!" Mushu stamped his foot. "Jade flowers all over the place, but the spirits are picky picky. You can buy those as a souvenir! Look, I found _this_ one in that darn spy's man-bag!"

Mushu's chest was heaving with anger, but he managed to push a heavy jade flower in front of the altar. "See! They're everywhere!"

First Ancestor Fa's mouth dropped majestically open.

"What?" Mushu challenged.

"That – "

"Yeah? Spit it out."

"Mushu, you are an IDIOT! THAT IS _THE_ JADE FLOWER!"

Mushu paused a minute, hoisted it up and looked at it critically. "Are you sure? Don't mess with me, man. I mean it's kinda cheaper-looking than I woulda thought – "

"Mushu, you idiot! Fa Feng sold it to a learned man – a _scholar_. Wen Jian-Die must have been from that lineage! What a fortunate coincidence – it must be providence! Take it to the temple!"

"The temple in town?"

"Yes! Go! Now! Perhaps the spirits will be pacified! Mushu, place it in the alcove in the wall – if you get there in time, Mulan might be saved. GO!"

Mushu ran the wrong way, spun around, ran the right way, and tumbled down the stairs. Lil' Brother was nowhere to be found, but the temple wasn't far. He had had the jade flower for half an hour. If only he could get it there on time!

He and Cri-Kee dashed through the high street. It was dark and quiet because everyone, oblivious to what was happening at the Fa house, was asleep in bed. At the end of the street, the temple would be buzzing with activity by morning. But it was deserted now.

Mushu and Cri-Kee groped their way about in the dark temple. I think it's this way, Cri-Kee said, hopping up into a hole in the wall.

"I bet you're right. Get _down_."

Mushu shooed his friend from the space and, claws trembling, firmly placed the jade flower in the alcove. He wondered if he should pray or something, and waited for the spirits' approval.

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing's happening, chirped Cri-Kee finally.

"Shut up, it will," Mushu insisted. They had both heard stories of Great Encouters with the spirit world.

Maybe you put it in backwards, Cri-Kee suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, backwards, that's it, why didn't I think of that." Mushu firmly screwed the statue so it's back faced against the wall.

But as they waited and nothing continued to happen, Mushu's own spirits sank.

"She must be dead already."

The words echoed through the empty space, making them sound only more tomb-like. Cri-Kee patted his friend's foot, but all was silent. They both knew Mushu was probably right. There was nothing to do but go home and join in the mourning.

And it may have been coincidence (though some would swear otherwise) but at the self-same moment the form of the jade flower connected with the floor of the temple alcove, Mulan drew a single steady breath, and Grandma Fa bolted upright in her chair.


	12. Twelve

_**A/N:**__ Well here we are, 12 weeks and over 20,000 words later – and it turns out that with 74 reviews, 10 faves, 40 alerts, and over 4000 hits this has been, by far, my most successful story to date! I hope you enjoy this this final chapter, and stay tuned for my note at the end of the story!_

**Part Twelve**

Fa Li heard it at the same time. "Mulan?" she whispered.

Everyone in the room grew silent. Even he who had caused everything listened from the corner. For a long time, there was no sound in the room but their breathing. And as Mulan took another breath, and another, and still more, her breath mingled with theirs. She opened her eyes.

A hysterical voice broke the silence. "She's saved! Oh, Cri-Kee, she's saved!"

Everyone glanced at one another, but no one knew who had spoken. It didn't matter. They immediately focused on the pale figure of Mulan.

"Get her some water," Grandma commanded. "She's trying to say something."

Fa Li held a vase of water to Mulan's cracked lips, and after a moment pulled it away again.

"What happened?" Mulan asked, very low.

"You lived," Fa Li replied.

"The spy – "

"We have him," Shang said, standing up clumsily, without wanting to draw attention himself.

Grandma, who seemed to have a psychic knowledge, knew her granddaughter wanted to sit up, so she and Fa Li carefully adjusted Mulan to lean against the headboard.

"Jian-Die was trying to deliver a message for the Huns," she began.

"Shh."

"And they were going to burn the town – "

"Hush, Mulan."

"And is everybody safe?"

"Does this answer your question?" Grandma nodded into the corner, and Mulan frowned at what she saw there.

"Who caught him?"

"Chien-Po," Yao said. It was at this point Ling burst into the room. "I brought the guards – " he whispered, and then he spied Mulan. "She's alive? Whoa! Did _not_ see that coming!" Ling tripped and fell across everything in the room and finally collapsed by Mulan's bedside. "I'm your servant as long as you live! Oh jeez! Oh gosh! You nearly died _again_!"

"I know," Mulan laughed. "You can't keep _me_ out of trouble. And you don't have to be my servant, Ling. Just don't flirt anymore, okay?"

"Anything!"

Ling flopped out of the way as Shang appeard by Mulan's side. He had felt very manly upon remembering how he carried her into the house, and figured this was a good a time as any for his speech; but then she turned her face up to his, with that strand of hair perpetually draped over one eye, and she greeted him with _that_ face – the unsure, graceless, honest, half-confident, half-humble, fully wonderful look she didn't even know she had.

And he was forced to mentally re-write his speech on the spot. (What he finally said is for another story.)

Meanwhile Chien-Po sat in the corner blubbering, as the returned Ling awkwardly wrung out his soaking handkerchief and Yao awkwardly patted him on the back.

"C'mon, Chien-Po, she's okay now," Ling urged, nodding fervently in Mulan's direction.

Chien-Po mouthed the words, "I know," yanked away the handkerchief, and proceeded to drench it.

"See," Ling continued, uneasily, "she's sitting up and drinking tea, that's a good sign, right?"

"Whoa, buddy," said Yao, clearly shaken by his friend's meltdown. "Calm down! Ya need to chant? Yeah! That's it! Da bu…uh…"

"No, no, I'm fine," Chien-Po insisted, sniffling, as Ling dutifully took the wet hanky. "I'm just so… _glad_!"

He sounded anything but. Ling and Yao could only look at each other and shrug as he disappeared into the handkerchief again.

Fa Zhou had not stayed for very long after his daughter awoke. He returned to the shrine to thank his ancestors. But first he sent a look to his daughter that went straight to her heart.

Then it was Mama's turn to speak. She took her place by Mulan's bed, and Mulan tried to smile, but she was a bit apprehensive as to what her mother would think.

"Mulan," Fa Li said, "I have something to say to you. I was wrong to try and force you to get married after you've been so accepting and done so much for our family without giving a thought to yourself. I was only trying to give you a normal life. But you don't fit the mold. You never have. Mulan, your heroic actions sometimes seem so far away and so long ago, and you came home just exactly the way you left, though so much improved, that it's almost easy to carry things on just the way we left them a year ago. But we realize now that we can't. You've grown so much. I suppose we've all changed. The village didn't, but now that you've saved _them _directly, maybe they will. We were only trying to do what was best for you, and we sometimes forget _you_ too often know what's best for us all. Hopefully the villagers can accept that, too."

Mulan sighed from weariness, then gave a watery smile. She knew she had pleased Baba long ago. Now she knew Mama understood, too.

"You were right, though. I wanted everyone to _know_ I was a hero. Like I deserved thanks for it. That's not what a hero is. But their not knowing helped me to carry out my plan – if everyone knew I was a hero, there'd be no way Jian-Die would have come within a mile of me, and I could never have held him so long. There's just one thing," she said, realizing in a flash. "_I_ didn't save the town. It doesn't really matter – _I_ know I can face every day now, by just being me, so _I'm _set. But I didn't catch Jian-Die, I just talked to him and hit him once or twice. It was Chien-Po who caught him. And that means…Chien-Po saved the town."

Chien-Po blinked, and yanked his head out of the handkerchief in astonishment. "I? I did not save the town!"

"Yes you did, Chien-Po. The spy would have gotten away if he hadn't run into you!"

"But – but – he only ran into me because we failed to deliver your message. We turned back. Mulan, don't say _I_ am the hero! One would award the soldiers who stopped the enemy, not the Great Wall for blocking them!"

"Besides, we helped!" Ling protested.

"Yeah, we used my belt to tie him up!" Yao added.

"Well, _I'm_ not going to take the credit, so you'd better find someone else who will," Mulan laughed. "Saving China once is enough. Twice is too much. And I don't need credit for either. Facing the daily battles is enough – I think I'm ready to live my life 'normally'. Besides," she added, glancing in Shang's direction and turning him red and flustered, "whoever said marriage was such a bad idea?"

Shang turned away and glanced out the window. "Uh, Mulan," he said, clearing his throat and staring. "I don't think…you're exactly going to live your life _normally_."

"What do you mean?" Grandma asked, ready to challenge anyone who would deny her granddaughter's wish.

"Well, I mean – look outside."

They all looked.

Out in the distance a tiny golden light, like a yellow flower, flickered and grew. It became larger, blossoming the farther it came down the road. Slowly it took form – it separated into yellow and white and red, then it was a person, then a horse, then a flag. Then a dragon in a circle – the Emperor's seal.

"It's the Imperial messengers!" Ling cried wildly.

"You mean, the Emperor sent those?" Mulan asked in disbelief, as horse after horse crashed down the road, with flags and blazing torches leaving bright vines behind.

One horse reared to a halt in the middle of the road. Its rider pulled a scroll from the bag on his back and unfurled it, shouting the practiced words. "Behold the deeds of the Honorable Fa Mulan, the Lady Soldier, who stopped the Huns at the Tung Shao Pass and in the Imperial City, therefore winning the respect of His Majesty the Emperor, and the respect of all China! Treat her as the hero she is or seek punishment! For the Emperor has declared her an important person, to be remembered through generations!"

Lights had snapped on in windows throughout the course of the speech. While the entire Fa household stayed pressed against the window in rapt attention, Shang crept outside, and soon they saw him say something to the Imperial messenger.

"The military has also announced that a dangerous spy who threatens this very town has been apprehended, thanks in part to Fa Mulan!"

And soon the entire train galloped away like a bright light down the street.

Mulan could hardly breathe, and Mama and Grandma pressed water and herbs to her nose and mouth with all their might.

"They really told," Mulan gasped.

"Of course they did!"

"People know!"

"And that'll bring a lot more problems, but that's life for you. Hey, Mulan, what did I tell you?" Grandma demanded. "That day at the matchmaker's? No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow. Well, Mulan? Wasn't I right?"

"You were right, Grandma," was all Mulan could say, throwing her arms around her grandmother. "Life's screwy that way."

And for the rest of that night, the Emperor's messengers galloped through the cities and galloped through the towns, proclaiming the deeds of Fa Mulan. Those who galloped through Mulan's village cried the loudest. The cherry and magnolia trees blossomed rapidly around them as they roared through the streets, and the people who had thrust their heads out of doorways to talk about Mulan now glanced at each other in wonder, many of them dismayed that they had not been first to recognize the village girl for the hero she really was.

Except, of course, for the matchmaker Madam Suo. That lady, upon hearing a ruckus, dashed outside in hopes of being first to spread any new gossip. Instead she tripped on the back landing, fell down the back stairs, and landed unceremoniously with her head in a water bucket. The injury so unnerved her she was out of service for months, and the moral of that story is that maybe lucky red clothing works after all. Mushu, of course, didn't give a hoot about morals; he just couldn't help laughing. (Madam Suo had "somehow" tripped over him….)

But for everyone else – the Fa family, the gang of three, General Shang, Mushu and especially Fa Mulan – the curse had been broken, and though adventure sought them out at every turn, their lives were forever full of honor and respect.

And they welcomed a new spring each year, whenever it happened to burst into view.

The End

_**A/N:**__ Haha, did you enjoy it? Since this Disney fic was so popular, I have a few others up my sleeve – including another Mulan sequel and an improved sequel to Pocahontas. But right now I'm working on my addition to Disney's _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_. Keep a look out for these in the upcoming months! _


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